The Sidious Chronicles
by His Majesty the Emperor
Summary: It is said that the measure of a man is much more than skin deep. What makes a person tick then? What motivates them and drives them? Why do people do what they do? Let us look into the mind of the galaxy's most infamous tyrant and find out, shall we?
1. Names

**Following the success (in my opinion) of A Matter of Time, I have decided to try another multi chapter story. This one will focus on Palpatine at random points in his life, hopefully giving insight into his thoughts and feelings on various events. Just to let you all know the events of this story will NOT OCCUR IN CHRONOLOGICAL ORDER (does everyone get that? Good) but rather shall be at random points in his life as inspiration comes to me. At the very worst I will be able to give an update maybe once a week, but please don't hold me to that. Well here we go. I don't own Star Wars and therefore I am not making any money off of this story. Please leave a review!**

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_"I haven't rejected the dynasty I was born into. I've rejected the name I was given."_-Palpatine.

What is the intrinsic value of something as simple as a name? Few people really think about it, but then again people rarely think of things that are truly important. A name gives a person identity and defines who and what they are. It connects them to their surroundings, speaks of their past and paints a picture of their future. Names give things power, power for themselves and power over others. It is this last point that has become a rather… _contentious_ sticking point for me.

"Cosinga! Cosinga, pay attention to me boy!"

I'm roused from my musings by that wretched voice I know all too well, pompous and whining.

Father is red in the face, he has spent the last half hour bellowing himself hoarse, at least I think that it has been a half hour, I honestly haven't been paying attention.

Mother is sitting in the corner, head in her hands, sobbing quietly. How pathetic. The ever annoying children I am loath to call my siblings are nowhere to be seen. It's one of the few sensible things that they are capable of doing. Even they, thickheaded though they are are just intelligent enough to know never to be near Father when an _incident _occurs. That's what they call these things behind my back, _incidents_. Anyone else in this miserable excuse for a family would be quivering with fear at Father's wrath. I find it amusing. He's so easy to provoke.

A sudden sharp sting of pain erupts on my right cheek and I find myself once again brought back to reality.

Father has struck me.

This isn't the first time he's done this, so I'm used to it. I suppose now I'll humor him by actually paying attention to his little tantrum.

"This isn't a laughing matter boy! Two people _died_ because of you. You were this close to being sent to prison for murder. I should have let the police arrest you, maybe then you would learn some responsibility."

It really is sad that he honestly thinks that he can intimidate me with such an obviously empty threat. I put aside the anger I feel at Father's physical abuse, but I do not forget it. I put it in an ever growing compartment of grievances and slights filed away in the recesses of my mind. I lean back, raise an eyebrow and give him a rather cocky look. He hates that.

"Really Father? You would throw your own son, your namesake no less out into the cold to fend for himself? I think not. You and I both know that if the details of this sordid affair were to come to light that it would irrevocably tarnish your career. Because that is what you really care about. We both know that. I could go to the pits of Chaos and you wouldn't bat an eyelash, but heaven forbid anything happen to put your career at risk."

He's quivering with impotent rage again. He knows I've outsmarted him again.

"Damn you Cosinga, I've paid a small fortune keeping you out of trouble and how do you repay me, _me_, the man who made you who you are? The worst part is that you can't even show actual gratitude for everything I've done for you, let alone actually conjure up some remorse for the crimes you've committed."

What an unusual thought, this thing they call remorse. I've never had it before, but based on how it has been described by my acquaintances it doesn't sound like a very pleasant sensation. I'll muse more on this later.

"It really isn't a crime father if no one knows you've committed it. As to the pedestrians who died, it is hardly my fault that they were in the lane when my speeder hit them. They should have gotten out of the way or better yet not been foolish enough to be standing there in the first place. As for your generosity, it is nothing more than a transparent attempt to further your own ends. We both know that this little discussion shall end just as all the others have. You yell and scream, mother sits in the corner like the helpless little wretch that she is and in the end nothing is accomplished. This is an act of futility, and frankly it bores me."

I get out of my chair and proceed to exit the dining room where our little meeting was taking place.

"COSINGA PALPATINE YOU GET BACK IN HERE OR ELSE! I AM NOT THROUGH WITH YOU!"

That is who I am. Cosinga Palpatine II, first born son of Cosinga Palpatine I. But all things must come to an end. I stand in the archway separating the dining room from the living room. The vein on Father's neck looks like it is about to burst. Mother is whimpering in the corner as she is prone to do, whispering over and over again that broken mantra, "My poor Cosinga where did I go wrong?" Or some other form of sentimental garbage. I turn to the two of them, each contemptible in their own unique way and say,

"I have often heard that parents are able and sometimes willing to disown their offspring. You are not in a position to do so Father, for your political opponents would use it against you gladly. I however am not compounded by such limitations. Let it be known that I shall no longer answer to nor use that name that you have saddled me with. From now on I shall answer to Palpatine and Palpatine only."

I was expecting more rage, more vitriolic hate. I expected Father to start throwing things or turn over the table. I didn't expect this though. It seems that the fire has gone out of him. He collapses into a nearby chair, his face blank. Mother is crying very loudly now.

He looks at me, and for a moment I almost think that he is saddened by this. But I know better. It is nothing more than a blow to his ego.

Silence reigns for what seems like an eternity (apart from Mother's sobs).

"Why?" he finally croaks.

I take a moment to gather my thoughts on the matter and then I give an impromptu speech.

"When a parent names a child I feel that that gives the parent power over that child. You have no power over me, you never have, you never will. Furthermore, of all the names in the galaxy you had to give me you gave me _your _name, as if you actually thought that your name was worthy of me. I am your eldest child, and you hoped to mold me into your image as your successor. But why should I lower myself so considerably in order to be shaped into something as lowly as yourself. You lack vision Father, you lack ambition."

"We have enough." He feebly tries to argue.

"ENOUGH?!" Now it is my turn to be angry.

"Enough is never enough Father. You are a pitiful old man who is more concerned with securing your reputation and powerbase in provincial politics. You look towards the past; thinking of the glory days when being a member of House Palpatine actually meant something. You look no further than Naboo and concern yourself with gaining prestige in insignificant ways. But I, _I_ look to the future. I see countless opportunities waiting for me. The entire universe is ours for the taking if we try hard enough. Power is just lying there, ready for us to take up at a moment's notice. This house could be truly great, known and respected the galaxy over for our power.

But no, it is enough that we have influence on little old Naboo. It is enough to be known and shown respect in Theed. It is enough for you, but we are unknown beyond this world. Because of your incompetence and your stupidity countless opportunities have been squandered. We could be great, I could be great, but we are all dragged down into the filth of mediocrity because of your bumbling."

Father squirms in his chair under the heat of my wrath. He's trying desperately to come up with a rebuttal, trying to come up with an excuse for his failure. I won't give him the opportunity.

"That is your primary failure Father. You lust after power. You chase after it and covet it, but in the end when real power actually comes within your sight you are far too timid and fearful to grab it. And so you make excuses for yourself. You lower your expectations, settling for less while yearning for more. And that is why you are always so angry. You want power, but you are too scared to pursue it, and it tears you apart, because you recognize your own inadequacy. That is your burden, and you will carry that failure to your grave, of that I am certain.

That is what the name Cosinga is to me Father, it is everything that you are. It is failure, incompetence, stupidity, and a lack of real ambition. That name does not describe me. It never has, it never will. And so I renounce it, I renounce it and everything associated with it, for in the end I shall never lower myself to be something so woefully dismal and weak as you."

"So that's it then?" Father asks.

"That's it." I turn to leave, but think better of it. I've hurt him badly, now I would like to rub his nose in it a little more. "The House of Palpatine is a noble one, and I continue to carry its name proudly, but as head of this household your incompetence has dragged our name through the dirt, making the name Palpatine synonymous with limitation and a passive acceptance of the status quo. I intend to be more proactive. When the blessed day comes when you finally throw off this mortal coil and have the common decency to die I shall begin the long and arduous task of rebuilding and restoring this family to its former glory. And then I shall surpass that former glory. Every mother's child on every planet in every Star System of this galaxy, from the Core Worlds to the Outer Rim Territories shall know and respect the name Palpatine.

It won't be easy. Countless years have been wasted by you playing local politics, but that shall change soon enough."

Silence hangs over the room once more like a shroud. Finally, after minutes of thought, Cosinga is only able to utter an ultimately meaningless platitude.

"I would have bequeathed unto you a kingdom. This world could have been yours one day." Father's misery at my disowning of the name he gave me seeps into his voice despite his best attempts. His argument is as feeble as he himself is.

"A single world could never fully satisfy my ambitions Father. I care not at all for the sad excuse for a legacy you wanted to give me."

"What could possibly be bigger than to have power over an entire world?" Father asks. He doesn't understand, he never could; it really is sad to watch.

"Why, to have power over every world of course." I respond.

"Don't you think that such a thing is impossible for you to reach." He tries to argue.

He will never understand. This conversation begins to annoy me and so I end it by simply saying, "Nothing is impossible Father, any objective can easily be obtained if a person has the will to do it."

With that I leave those two fools who call themselves my parents to stew in their own inadequacy. I need to get out of the house. What a derisible old man, thinking that he can keep me under his thumb. I have a greater calling, I know that to be true. I do not know yet how I know this, but I am rarely wrong.

I deserve better, and I am capable of doing so much more. I can be so much more. And I will be so much more than what I am now. I will make my mark on this galaxy. History shall remember the name Palpatine long after I have died and my body turned to dust. They shall all speak of me and my accomplishments with reverence. It will all be mine someday, for I have the will to make my dream a reality.

Someday, but not today.

For today though I shall revel in my victory. In a sense I feel reborn, for by ridding myself of that name I have shed the illusion that my family has lived under all these years. I answer to no man but myself. For I no longer have such a shameful name associated with such a wretched man. But while I still possess my family's name, I still have no personal name. Shall I give myself a new one?

No, I think not. First names can give individuals power, but a lack of first name can give power as well. It gives a person a sense of ambiguity, of mystery, much like a Shade I suppose. I find that quite appealing. I am now officially my own man with any and all pretenses disposed of. For now though I shall have to continue living with those cretins. Who knows, they might still be of some use to me yet.

Yes, Palpatine is a fine name. No need for anything more or less. For my immediate purposes it shall suffice. I shall be great, in spite of Father and in spite of the name Cosinga.

I am the Master of my own destiny, and nothing will stop me from attaining that which is my birthright.

Nothing.


	2. The Very Model of a Modern Captain

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At long last the war has begun. After so many centuries of stagnation the galaxy shall be cleansed in fire and reformed into something truly great. One of the future agents of my reform is sitting before me now, as eager to please me as a pet would its owner.

That someone is Lieutenant-Governor Wilhuff Tarkin of Eriadu. Strike that, former Lieutenant-Governor Tarkin of Eriadu. It seems that when news broke out about the start of the war Tarkin resigned his office immediately and came to Coruscant as soon as he possibly could. Since then he has inundated my office with calls. Needless to say my secretary was less than happy to deal with him, but it matters not. I could use someone like him.

And so an appointment was arranged. What Tarkin wants is painfully obvious. Tarkin wants a commission in the newly reformed Republic Navy, and he wants it badly. He has brought with him his resume, which is impressive; there can be no denying that. Former member of the Republic Outland Regions Security Forces, a subdivision of the Judicial Forces, with three citations for bravery in combat, two doctorates in military tactics and strategy, and over fourteen years of experience commanding ships while combatting pirates in the Outer Rim.

Not to mention his rather impressive political ties. Member of the influential and powerful Tarkin family, cousin of former Senator Ranulph Tarkin, hero of the Stark Hyperspace War, and relation to the ever loyal Senator Shayla Paige-Tarkin.

Yes Tarkin would make a very suitable officer in my army. Though there is one thing that is slightly unclear.

"I must say Lieutenant-Governor that your resume is nothing short of impeccable and your political ties alone show how loyal you are to the Republic, but forgive me, but I am rather confused by one thing."

He doesn't seem fazed by this at all. "And what is that Your Excellency?"

It is time that I dropped the image of the kindly old man and get to the heart of this, I need to be absolutely sure.

"Let us drop all pretenses of ceremony and get to the point. You are the second most powerful man on your homeworld and yet you want to give that up in order to become an officer in the Navy. Forgive me but that seems to me like quite a demotion, and you do not seem like the type of man who would allow his career to go backwards. What do you intend to get out of this?"

He offers a polite smile. "In the short term Chancellor what you say may be true, but I have a much grander vision for myself in mind."

I like the sound of that, it sounds ambitious. "And what pray tell is that?"

"We live in turbulent times Your Excellency. The future course of galactic history shall be altered for all time by the events that transpire in the war, and I intend to make my mark. I can only go so far on Eriadu, and being Lieutenant-Governor was as high as I possibly could go in peacetime, and that simply wasn't acceptable. But war, war provides many an opportunity for advancement, and I fully intend to use this opportunity to further the cause of the Republic, which is my cause as well."

I lean back and say rather bluntly, "So you are taking advantage of the situation as a way of attaining more power for yourself that you otherwise could not attain, is that it?"

He seems mildly taken aback, "I wouldn't put it so bluntly Chancellor, rather…"

I cut him off mid-sentence. "There is no need to excuse yourself sir, I take no offense as to your motives. In fact, I find them highly commendable. This Republic needs more men with drive and ambition, for surely ambitious men seeking greater power will try to perform their duties to the best of their abilities in order to be promoted, wouldn't you agree?"

Tarkin relaxes slightly thanks to my reassurances. "Precisely Chancellor."

"But I should warn you to be more careful with such language in public my friend; certain Senators could misinterpret such zeal."

The very mention of the Senate causes Tarkin's smile to vanish. The look on his face is now more reminiscent of a man who has just eaten something rather unpleasant.

"If I may be so bold your Excellency, may I ask you a personal question?"

I consider the request for a moment. "Of course sir, speak your mind."

"If I may be frank Chancellor, you have always been an enigma to me. You are loved by Liberals and Conservatives across the political spectrum. You are adored by pacifists and war hawks, and you are considered a patron saint by honest senators and corrupt senators alike. It would seem that everyone in the galaxy who is not a Separatist has nothing but the deepest admiration for you sir. How do you do it?"

I'm a Dark Lord of the Sith with mastery of mental persuasion of course. But I can't say that out loud. Not yet anyways. This Tarkin is shaping up to be quite an impressive man, well, impressive by a non-Force sensitive's standards anyways, which admittedly isn't much. What answer would appeal to this man? Ah this will do quite nicely.

"I do not tether myself to one ideology, but rather believe in doing whatever is necessary to ensure the future security and stability of the Republic. Sometimes that may require bending some rules or making some morally questionable choices, but in the end the greater good demands that certain sacrifices be made. That is all that matters to me, and I think that such a broad approach manages to appeal to almost anyone."

"It would seem then that we have more in common than I first thought." Tarkin says.

"Really?" I respond.

"I have always been a pragmatic man Chancellor. I too do not allow myself to be bound by only one political ideology, but rather believe in doing everything necessary to achieve my desired goals. Many of my critics on Eriadu have denounced my methods as being Machiavellian in nature, but at the end of the day I would rather have accomplished something rather than simply hold on to outdated principles."

The course this conversation is taking is quite intriguing. "Outdated?" I ask.

"It is as I once told my old acquaintance Raith Sienar Chancellor, the old ways are dying. We must adapt. The values that this Republic has upheld, strong moral integrity, slavish devotion to non-violence and an atmosphere of acceptance that has only bred corruption and apathy, these ideas drag this Republic down and make it nigh impossible to ensure that peace and order are properly enforced."

"What do you think is necessary sir?"

He leans forward and gives a predatory grin. "The complete and utter eradication of the Separatists by any means necessary Your Excellency. They are a stain upon the galaxy, a collection of parasites and misanthropes who have defied the legitimate order of things in this galaxy. They must be combatted and opposed at all costs. Their defeat is essential to the future security of the Republic."

He has become quite passionate now, speaking with incredible conviction. I see in this man the future New Order that I shall build.

"That is why I ask you for a commission in the Navy Chancellor. You need men like me on the front lines. I promise you that I shall do whatever I must to ensure this Republic's survival. Especially considering the precarious position the Grand Army is in.

I sense what he is referring to and make an educated guess.

"You have reservations about the leadership of the Jedi?"

He seems surprised by my deduction, but naturally assumes that it is due to astute political skills rather than the Force.

"The Chancellor is quite perceptive. I admit that I have gone on public record announcing my lack of faith in the Jedi Order's ability to lead the military to ultimate victory. The Jedi lack the skills and tactical training necessary to lead an army into combat. Warrior monks do not make competent generals in my opinion."

How far does this distrust go? I decide to probe a little deeper. "Surely the Jedi know what they are doing. After all, they managed to lead the armies of the Republic to victory many a time in the past."

Tarkin gives a rather dismissive snort towards my argument. "That was in the ancient past, thousands of years ago Supreme Chancellor. And even then their strategies left much to be desired. The Jedi then were bound by strict moral codes of conduct that hampered their effectiveness. The wars they fought in could have been much shorter and less bloody if the Jedi had not been so restricted by obsolete notions of morality. That argument holds up to this day. The modern Jedi is little different from his ancient ancestors. Our enemies in the Confederacy are ruthless, unbound by the same rules of conduct and moral codes that the Jedi so fervently follow. In order to defeat such a duplicitous foe we must be willing and able to fight fire with fire."

I nod my head in agreement. Tarkin has made his case very well. He shall make a fine servant in my New Order.

"It seems that we are in agreement on many matters. I feel that the Jedi are more suited as peacekeepers and negotiators than they are as generals. And that is why I have been looking for men like you Lieutenant-Governor to slowly take control of the military from the Jedi."

"Does that mean…?" Tarkin begins to ask.

"Yes, congratulations _Captain_ Tarkin, you are now an officer in the Republic military and you shall be assigned a ship immediately. I would commission you as an admiral immediately if I could, but there are still factions in the Senate that would be opposed to a man such as yourself being immediately given such a high position of power."

Tarkin scowls at the idea of it, and I am amused by how easily he is so visibly offended by slights against his person.

"Such people are the lowly survivors of a bygone age Sir. I look forward to the day when the last remnant of the old ways are swept away forever."

I nod sagely as I guide the new captain to the door. "That day shall come sooner than you think my friend. For now though we must tolerate their presence and deal with them as we can. But rest assured I have no doubt that you shall ascend quite rapidly in the Grand Army. I shall watch your career with interest."

Tarkin walks out the door, turns around and bows his head in respect. It really does amaze me sometimes just how easy it is to ingratiate these people and get them to do as I please.

"Thank you for this opportunity Supreme Chancellor, you shall not regret this. I wish though that more politicians were as sensible as you are."

"No, no I won't regret this Captain. And I wish more members of the military were as practical as you are. We are both modern men who appreciate the harsh and difficult realities of life and war. I look forward to what appears to be a mutually beneficial alliance between us."

Tarkin nods, reiterates his appreciation and then leaves for his new command.

I am pleased with this turn of events. It is a shame that Tarkin is not Force sensitive, or else he would make an excellent acolyte. He is an ambitious man who is willing to do what is necessary in order to achieve greater power for himself. In that regard he reminds me of myself when I was younger. Perhaps I would have followed a path similar to Tarkin's had destiny not deigned it necessary for Plagueis to have discovered me and taken me as his apprentice. Such thoughts on what could have been are superfluous and counterproductive though, and so I set these thoughts aside.

Amoral and ruthless men like Tarkin are becoming more and more common as the Jedi and their supporters decline. This is only natural. For far too long the Light has held sway over the galaxy. But the tides have turned as they inevitably must. The Darkside is rising to claim its rightful place as the supreme power in the universe. And men such as Tarkin shall be its disciples spreading my word and the word of the Darkside across the galaxy.

Everything is going according to plan.


	3. The True Nature of Power

**Dark Kronus: Ask and you shall receive my friend. In this chapter old Plagueis is spreading the Sith Gospel.**

**Steven: Yes, Machiavelli is so badass that he traveled through space and time to the Star Wars Universe to publish The Prince. Can't you imagine that being at the top of the Sith reading list though? **** Thank you very much for the very kind words of praise.**

**Loteva: As always your reviews are much appreciated as is your feedback.**

**StarWarsfan 2296: I'm glad I piqued your interest.**

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It is amazing sometimes how radically one's life can change. Not long ago I was merely the delinquent son of a lesser nobleman with grand ambitions but no practical way of attaining my goals.

Now I am the apprentice of the only living Sith Lord, Darth Plagueis. I admit that the reality of this apprenticeship is not quite what I had expected. The physical and mental trials that I have endured in the last six months since my acceptance into the Order have been beyond anything that I have ever experienced before, but I have managed to pass every test thus far.

What surprises me most though is the nature of my teacher, this Darth Plagueis. Plagueis is not like the Dark Lords which exist in the historical texts. He is much more… how should I put it, restrained than his predecessors. He is more of an intellectual if anything else. He is capable of being cruel or vicious if pushed to that (I learned that rather early on) but he is not prone to violent outbursts as the archived Sith Lords of the past were.

In fact I would say that his restraint is eerily analogous to that of a Jedi.

He has sensed my line of thought. Rather than be upset at being compared to his enemies he actually seems amused.

"There is much that you have yet to learn Sidious. Be not afraid of my potential wrath. Ask your question and I might deign it necessary for myself to answer."

I must tread carefully, a single wrong word could mean hours of torture.

"I find that the Sith are much more different than I had expected Master."

Plagueis nods his head in a knowing manner. "You expected bloodthirsty warriors perhaps?"

I shake my head, "Nothing so crass Master, but I am surprised at how, how…" I trail off, unable to form an acceptable response.

"How similar we are to the Jedi we hate?" Plagueis finishes.

I can only nod in the affirmative.

"Young Sidious, there is much that I have not told you yet when it comes to the history of the Sith. My old Master never had a real appreciation for history beyond the basic necessities, but I was always fascinated with the antiquities and stories of the past. The past is a gateway to lessons learned Sidious, providing us with cautionary tales that shall help us on the path to ultimate victory. I have told you the main reasons behind the establishment of the Rule of Two, and my answer to your question lies along similar lines. The Sith were prone to infighting, and it was that infighting that resulted in the fall of our Order and the destruction of the Empires we had created time and time again. The old Sith allowed their passion and their rage to blind them and overwhelm their senses, clouding their judgment and leaving them vulnerable to defeat.

Therefore Bane in his wisdom determined it necessary to take a page from the Jedi's book. The difference between our Order Sidious and the Sith Order of old is that, while we readily fuel our power with our hatred, we are able to recognize the potential danger of becoming overwhelmed by our passions, and therefore keep them in check. Whereas the Jedi attempt to detach themselves from their feelings and not act upon them the Sith readily embrace their rage.

But there is more than one type of rage Sidious. For lack of a better analogy, there are two types of rage, burning and cold. A burning rage cannot be contained, but must erupt like a volcano. It is prone to overwhelm its host easily. It saps the strength and clouds the mind. This was the rage often called upon by the Sith of ancient times, and it is the primary reason for their demise.

The second form of rage is cold. It is a calculating contempt, sitting oftentimes for years on end, remembering every transgression and wrong. It is very easy to keep under control and offers a veritable fountain of Darkside energy to draw upon in times of need. Do you understand Sidious?"

I take a moment to think through what Plagueis has said. I am reminded of the contempt I held for Father and the rest of my family. It all makes sense.

"I do Master. Thank you for telling me this."

For a few moments there is silence, and then the impromptu lecture turns to a different subject. Plagueis speaks.

"Tell me Sidious. What is power?"

My response is rather instant. "Power is the ability to do as you please without fear of repercussion."

"A rather crude explanation, but I suppose it shall suffice." Plagueis responds.

The Muun clasps his hands behind his back and begins circling me like a predator around its prey.

"How does one attain power Sidious?"

The answer seems fairly obvious to me and so I say, "I suppose if one has enough money…"

That is all I manage to say before the agonizing Force Lightning engulfs me. Plagueis is less than pleased with my answer.

"You still have much to learn apprentice. You are the son of a rich man, and you have been brought up to believe that money alone determines the course of sentient life in this galaxy. That is the delusional dream of the weak. We are Sith. We know better than that. While money can occasionally buy the allegiances of some it is at best a temporary solution, and even then it is not a surefire way of accomplishing your goals. If it was possible to simply buy the galaxy there would be no need for this cloak and dagger activity and the Sith would have simply bought everything centuries ago. As hard as it may be for you to believe this Sidious there are some in the galaxy who are not swayed by the allure of credits. And I am not referring to the Jedi either. There are many "honest" people who believe more in their own gullible sense of integrity than they do in wealth."

It is then that Plagueis leans in closer. His eyes blaze with a demented conviction, and though I am loath to admit it I am frightened by the ferocity of this glare. Our faces are only inches from each other and Plagueis says something. He says something that I know that I shall remember for the rest of my life. It shall be my most vivid memory of my teacher. His voice is hardly a whisper, and yet the words reverberate through my mind like bombs exploding on the battlefield.

"Tell me what you regard as your greatest strength, so I will know how best to undermine you; tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face; tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you; and tell me what you crave, so that I might deny you."

He backs away and gives me time to process this information.

"That is how you attain power Sidious, and more importantly that is how you maintain power once you have acquired it, for in the end what is power worth if you cannot keep control of it. You must have complete and utter control over those beneath you, and the only way to do that is by knowing everything about them. Knowledge truly is power Sidious. We must know the hopes and dreams of our enemies so that we can better crush them. We must know the fears of our allies so that we may keep them in line. And we must know the fears of our underlings so that we can affirm their loyalty to us.

This is not an endeavor for the weak minded to undertake my apprentice. We must know everything that there is to know about those who oppose us and those who would serve our cause. We must be experts in manipulation, at least a dozen steps ahead of our opponents. Only then shall we achieve victory.

That is the key difference between Jedi and Sith my apprentice. The Jedi fear the true power of the Darkside and all of the attachments that come with it. They fear using such means to gain power, and so they lessen their power by denying themselves the means of achieving that power. For in the end it does not suffice that we have power over the Force alone. We must gain sway over peoples and nations, governments and leaders. Only then shall we be supreme. Only then shall we be victorious. Do you understand now Sidious?

I nod my head. "I do, and I apologize for my mistake Master."

"Just don't make the same mistake again my apprentice. You are still young though, and you have much to learn. We will accomplish great things together Sidious."

With that Plagueis heads out to leave. Appearances must be kept after all, and Hego Damask has several meetings this afternoon with prominent shareholders. I am left alone to study the texts Plagueis has left for me.

I feel that cold rage that Plagueis spoke of. At the moment it is directed at him. Stupid old fool. I would know these things if he didn't hold his knowledge back. He's just being sadistic for the thrill of it. He's trying to keep me under his thumb. For the briefest of moments I am tempted to kill him. I suppress that urge quickly. He knows so much that I could use. He knows things that I could never uncover on my own. His reasoning is sensible now that I have time to fully think about it alone. But there is only so much power in the universe. If Plagueis has more than I have less, and that is unacceptable. I need that power. Sometimes I do not know why I want this power so badly; all that I know is that I need it.

For now I must bide my time. Plagueis thinks that he can keep me under control, but there is one thing that he has not taken into account. I have the will and the drive to get what I want regardless of the consequences. And I will do what I must to attain power for myself.

Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, maybe not this year, but someday, someday I will kill Plagueis and take my rightful place as Dark Lord of the Sith. That is Plagueis's fatal flaw, he underestimates me. I am the least of his concerns in his mind. And I will use that against him.

My day is coming. It has been preordained, I can feel it.

And so I remember this slight, this affront on my person and dignity. I remember everything he does, every condescending speech, every criticism, every refusal to share his knowledge, and every instant of arrogant self-inflated superiority. I remember, and never once do I forgive.

Your days are numbered _Master_. Your end shall come from the place that you least expect it, and that is my power over you.


	4. Hello Darkness My Old Friend

**Special inspiration for this chapter comes from the funeral scene and the accompanying soundtrack from the movie Watchmen. Please leave a review!**

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"We are gathered here today in mourning to lay to rest the body of the esteemed Magister Damask…"

The priest responsible for the funeral drones on and on, continuing with his little speech for necessity's sake. It is a dark day on Muunilinst, with the skies as black as coal as rain falls in buckets upon this solemn scene. It is as if the Darkside itself is mourning the loss of its fallen son, its tears the rain that pelts the ground and the group gathered here today. A group of approximately twenty people gathered in solemnity to pay their final respects to the dead. I am the only one who is not holding an umbrella to shield myself from the weather. I enjoy the rain, I find it refreshing. In a way it reminds me of my childhood. Mother would always say, in her timid little way, "Cosinga please remember your umbrella and jacket, you'll catch your death otherwise." Catch my death with modern medicine available? Please. The next thing you know women will start dying in childbirth. But back to the present.

No one is really paying attention as the priest who up until today never even knew of Damask's existence sings his praises and mourns his untimely passing, I most certainly am not. Few of the people in attendance at the service even really liked the old Muun. Several of them are his old business partners and rivals, ready to carve up his old company amongst themselves and the incredible fortune that he possessed.

Unfortunately for them I managed to obtain the vast majority of his assets, under multiple assumed names of course. It wouldn't do after all for the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic to appear to have inherited the vast wealth of a being that died under, well, less than unsuspicious circumstances.

Yes the Death of Magister Damask came as quite a surprise to almost everyone. He was well known as a mover and shaker in galactic politics and business, admired the galaxy over for his keen business skills and his willingness to donate his money to the poor and needy. Yes, a completely innocent and generous person all around.

HaHaHa. It really is amazing just how easily the beings around me are so deceived. They couldn't stand the truth and so they readily accept the lies that make up their miserable and inconsequential lives, for the truth is much uglier than they would like to believe.

Speaking of inconsequential lives, Hego Damask, or as I knew him Darth Plagueis.

Oh how the mighty hath fallen. How sweet it is to see that great Sith Lord lain so low by my hands. It truly is a sorry thing. As much as the Priest drones on and on about Damask's virtues and how his spirit shall live on in the hearts and minds of the people of the galaxy for all time, in reality within 20 years few will remember this man. That is the fate of all mortals who do not leave their mark on history; they wither and die and are inevitably forgotten, leaving no trace of their existence. The worst part was that Plagueis could very well have lived forever had it not been for his own arrogance. It's such a delicious irony. The old intellectual, the mystic who laid out every plan carefully and was constantly lecturing on the necessity of never underestimating his opponents was arrogant enough to lower his guard in my presence.

Is it not the nature of the apprentice to destroy the master? Not anymore, said Plagueis. He was sick of the infighting and the killing. Plagueis was at heart a businessman I suppose, and in his mind the Rule of Two was no longer profitable. He wanted the two of us to be partners in a grand conglomeration of darkness.

If he truly believed that the Rule of Two was obsolete and that the murder of the Master was no longer necessary, then why did he kill Tenebrous? The answer is relatively simple of course. Plagueis wanted us to be partners in this enterprise, but it was clear that he was the _senior_ partner and I was his _junior_ in this joint venture.

I am second to no one and I cannot possibly imagine spending the rest of my life as his second in command.

After all, it was I who did most of the heavy lifting in the Senate while he performed his experiments in his precious laboratory. It was I who manipulated the Trade Federation into blockading Naboo. It was I who got Valorum kicked out of office and it was _I_ who manipulated things behind the scenes in order for the Senate to elect me Supreme Chancellor. I admit Plagueis helped here and there along the way. I couldn't have gotten this far without him, as loath as I am to admit that. But that changes little. I did most of the work while he waxed philosophical and tried to play God. And he really believed that I would appoint him Co-Chancellor after he coasted through life like that? I think not.

He was secure in his power, convinced that I had been made to believe as he believed. He thought that I shared his dream, his vision. He thought that I no longer believed in the Rule of Two and that I was content to serve by his side. I will never be content until I have everything, and I could not have everything as long as Plagueis still drew breath. He thought he had tamed me but at heart I am King of the Beasts, answerable to no man or authority.

That was Plagueis's fatal flaw. He trusted in me. I think he may have even cared for me in a certain sense, much as a father is supposed to care for a son. Or something like that anyways. I wouldn't know.

In the end Plagueis had to go, for towards the end he was becoming less and less like a true Sith.

No true Sith can care for anything or anyone but themselves and the power that they so desperately crave. Compared to that nothing else in this life matters.

In the end the Rule of Two is the first and only reality of the Sith. It is our fundamental nature to do anything and everything to achieve power. And that means being ruthless to those who stand in the way of us acquiring that power. Conflict is the nature of the Sith. To deviate from this in the slightest is to reject the fundamental realities upon which the Sith were founded. To reject this is the ultimate blasphemy, a cardinal sin of the deepest and most unforgiving nature. To reject these principles is tantamount to renouncing the Sith Order itself. And that was what Plagueis did. The Rule of Two acts as a safety switch, allowing the Sith Order not only to survive, but maintain its tradition of survival of the fittest. Only the strongest and most ambitious may be Dark Lord, and the Rule of Two stands as the last line of defense that simultaneously encourages the infighting and competition between Master and Apprentice, but simultaneously prevents that conflict from destroying the Order.

In the end Plagueis tried to turn the Order of the Sith Lords into something that it was not and could never become. He abandoned the core teachings of the Sith, and so he had to go; the fact that he just so happened to be an obstacle on my path to greater power is sheer coincidence.

At long last,the Priest's lamentations mercifully come to an end and the coffin holding Plagueis's body is set ablaze. Plagueis had not seen fit to create a will (why would an immortal being waste their time doing that after all?) so I had one manufactured. The will I have created makes it clear that Damask's last wishes were to be cremated and his ashes scattered. And so despite the heavy rain (why the funeral had to be outside I can't even fathom. Perhaps it's an old Muun tradition) the body of Hego Damask, Darth Plagueis the Wise is consumed in flame (it seems that gas fires burn despite the rain, you would think a Sith Lord of my age would know that?)

I would have preferred disposing of the body privately, but appearances must be kept, and it wouldn't do to arouse suspicion at the disappearance of the body of a relatively well known individual.

I could have had Plagueis simply buried, but I felt that cremation was the only way necessary. I do not know why, but I can't shake the feeling that Plagueis up until now was not completely dead. The mystic knew much about the subtleties of the Darkside enough to have achieved immortality. Who knows what other tricks he could have learned in his time? It seems foolish to any rational person, but I couldn't help but wonder if he had any tricks left up his sleeves. Perhaps maybe he had foreseen my betrayal and devised a way to play dead despite the thorough checks I had made on him. Or perhaps I am getting paranoid in my old age.

Either way I would not be happy until the body of Darth Plagueis was consumed completely in the inferno, his ashes scattered by the droplets of rain. And now I know for sure. He is dead. Finally.

One by one the group disperses, eager to get out of the rain and the cold, leaving their new Chancellor to pay what they think are his final respects.

I spend but a minute or two in the rain with nothing for company but the scattering ashes of my dead master and heaven's tears; shed for the passing of yet another mortal, one of many. My voice is hardly an octave above a whisper.

"Farewell Plagueis. Know that you did not die in vain. You have played your small part in history by training me. After all these centuries the Sith Grand Plan shall finally come to fruition and you have the unique honor of being the master of the Dark Lord that shall lead our Order to its rightful victory. I suppose that it is a bit of a shame that you didn't live to see my ascendancy all the way through, but you were no longer of use to me. In your arrogance you believed yourself beyond reproach and that the old ways of the Rule of Two no longer applied. You were wrong.

You underestimated my power Darth Plagueis and you have paid the price for your failure with your life. Be one with the Force and the Darkness now Plagueis, and know that you have been defeated by your superior. Rest in peace."

I leave the still smoldering pile of ash behind me, leaving what is left of the former Dark Lord of the Sith alone with nothing but the rain and the sound of silence.


	5. Democracy

**Keep in mind that this is the bad guy talking here. These are not my views on the Democratic process, just Palpatine's. Don't send me emails calling me a facist or something. Please Leave a Review!**

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_Must. Resist. Urge. To. Kill._

"And that is why Chancellor that I implore you to rescind this so called Enhanced Security and Enforcement Act. Surely you must see what a threat this piece of legislation is to the future of our democracy."

_Not. Resisting. Well. At all._

It isn't easy being the leader of the free galaxy, especially when you are trying to dismantle the government you claim to be protecting and seize absolute power for yourself. No it is certainly not easy, especially with a war going on (that admittedly I started). It would all be tolerable though if it wasn't for one tiny thing.

"Chancellor are you listening to me? With all due respect this is far too important for you to ignore. The future of the Republic is at stake."

Senator Amidala, here once again to protest the, as she would so eloquently put it, "dictatorial and questionable method by which the executive branch of the central government has accumulated an unprecedented and unconstitutional amount of authority to the office of the chief executive at the expense of the duly elected legislature and the constituent worlds and sectors of this grand union."

In short, she's mad that I'm getting my way. Is anyone surprised?

It truly is a testament to my power that I manage to maintain my cover and not wring her neck. It truly is amazing how thick headed and annoying she can be when it comes to her principles. One would think that age and experience would temper such rampant idealism. But no, if anything her idealism has only gotten worse as the war has progressed. If she wasn't essential to my future plans I would devise an agonizing death for her as penance for wasting my valuable time with this childish drivel.

It takes some effort (spending an hour on the receiving end of a lecture on the Republic's democratic virtues by Amidala will make the easiest of tasks difficult to perform) but I manage to contort the muscles in my face into a sad grimace that basically says "I agree with you my friend but I really can't do anything about it. Sorry" and say,

"My dear Senator I know how you feel about the Security Amendments, but as I have made abundantly clear the accumulation of power from the Senate to my office is but a temporary solution to the dire problems that this war presents. Surely you can understand that certain difficult decisions must be made."

"No decision is worth making that sacrifices the basic rules upon which our government is founded Chancellor." She quickly retorts.

It is clear that I can't be rational with her. Perhaps if I touch on a sore point for her; maybe that will get her off my back.

"Do you remember my friend the Trade Federation's invasion of our homeworld those many years ago?"

She seems caught off guard by my bringing this up seemingly out of the blue.

"Of course I do Chancellor. How could I ever forget it?"

"Then tell me Senator, how did the Senate react upon learning of the illegal occupation of Naboo?"

She lowers her head and at first she doesn't answer. She knows I've got her.

"They argued and debated whether or not the invasion was even taking place while our people suffered and died."

I nod. "Despite the testimony of two Jedi Knights and the testimony of that planet's Head of State the Senate could not even realize that one of its own member worlds was under occupation."

I get out of my chair and walk over to her. It is time I drove the point home. My voice and body language shift, adopting the attitude of a saddened grandfather concerned with the welfare of his grandchildren. I put my hand on her shoulder.

"Imagine for a moment Senator Amidala if that same Senate was responsible for running the Clone Wars. Before the war I doubt that I could even get the Senate to agree as to which planet we are currently on, let alone decisively run a war effort. We would have been overwhelmed in weeks by the Separatists had drastic actions not been taken to protect the Republic. This Republic can no longer afford the luxury of being governed by committee, not when there is so much at stake. Had it not been for decisive action such as that which you took as Queen Senator Naboo may well have ended up under the permanent control of the Trade Federation. The same applies here. Quick and decisive action is needed to quell this uprising, and that is something that the Senate is no longer capable of."

"I understand what you are saying Chancellor but I cannot agree with it. Once so much power is accumulated in a place where it does not belong it soon becomes impossible to dislodge."

With that I adopt the look of a kicked puppy. "You don't trust me Senator?" She's so easily manipulated.

"Of course I trust you Chancellor, I trust you completely. But power corrupts after all. I'm just worried for you."

What a complete imbecile.

"Rest assured my friend that as soon as the war is over I shall oversee a direct return of power to the Senate and the regional governments."

"You will step down then?" she asks.

"You must trust me to do the right thing Senator." I reply tersely. Surely even nice Chancellors have limits to such annoyances?

"And you are still seeking a diplomatic solution." She asks as I escort her to the door.

Not this question again. Chancellor are you working on that diplomatic solution? Chancellor have you spoken to the Separatists yet? Chancellor why is it that the diplomatic meeting you finally got around to arranging break down almost immediately? You would think that she would get it after the seventh or eighth time she asked.

At the door she turns to look at me, expecting an answer. I am getting so tired of this petty song and dance routine we must constantly go through. How I yearn to make her and all like her suffer my wrath. All I can manage for now is this.

"I SAID that I am doing everything in my power to bring an end this conflict. Know that there are limits even to my patience Senator."

She thinks that she has just pushed me too far and she seems upset by her own tactless mistake.

"I apologize Chancellor, but you will look over my proposals on alternate methods of conducting the war without eroding the foundation of democracy and freedom on which our society is built."

She forces a datapad with her recommendations into my hands. I let out a world weary sigh to complete the illusion of the tired and put upon wartime leader. "Very well Senator. I shall see you on the Senate floor tomorrow."

"Have a nice day Chancellor." And with that she is mercifully gone. I can sense her thoughts and feelings as she leaves. She's racked with guilt for having pushed me so far. "Poor man," she thinks. "He is trying so hard. Such a kind, good man. I shouldn't have pushed him so hard. Of course he is trying to do everything he can."

I walk over to my desk and take a seat. Mas Amedda, who up until this point has been standing in the corner observing the meeting walks up to me, awaiting orders. Without looking at the pad or its contents I hand it to him. "Dispose of this will you Vice Chair?" I say.

"With pleasure sir." He responds. "Is there anything else I can do?"

I take a moment to think, leaving the Speaker's question to hang in the air. I will never understand Amidala's firm devotion to this concept they call democracy. I suppose I appreciate such dedication from a purely philosophical viewpoint, but as a practical matter it is just contemptible to watch.

The values and tenets of democracy, any democracy, be it parliamentary, presidential or tribal in nature are the antithesis of Sith teachings. Democracy is a highly idealistic system of government that believes in a fairytale world of equality and happiness for all. The Sith are realists, grounded in the harsh realities of life.

Democracy to me is nothing more than a sad horde of greedy, doleful fools squabbling amongst themselves over truly petty differences while the rest of civilization crashes and burns around them. Hampered and choked by overwhelming bureaucracy, manipulated and corrupted to the point of utter collapse the democratic process that governed this Republic for millennia no longer functions, continuing forward only through sheer inertia alone.

It is true that the Sith played a large hand in the decline and fall of this government. We have bribed, murdered, and manipulated events behind the scenes for nearly one thousand years now in order to bring the Republic to its knees. But despite the actions of the Sith democracy in this galaxy was doomed anyways.

The ideals of democracy are an illusion that cannot be maintained in real life. There will always be exploiters, lazy people who influence the system to their advantage in order to get more for themselves. There will always be incompetent or apathetic (or both) voters who will allow the greedy and the weak to gain power, bringing the system to a screeching halt. Most voters turn out to be uninformed fools electing other fools into positions of power. And when one group of incompetent fools in government manages to utterly fail at governing the masses vote that group of idiots out and then vote another group of idiots in. Lather, rinse, repeat. The masses could never think for themselves and chances are they never will. They need a strong hand to guide them. My hand.

In the end democracy and the Republic itself have always been doomed. Even when the Republic was first founded nearly twenty five millennia ago democracy was doomed. Democracy may have continued on without Sith interference for several more centuries, maybe even a millennia or two, but it would have fallen inevitably.

Nothing lasts forever after all. Nothing except for the Sith.

I turn back to Amedda who has been dutifully awaiting my orders.

"That will be all for now. But before you go Mr. Speaker I just wanted to wish you congratulations on your re-election as Vice-Chairman of the Senate, you must be very pleased."

While elections for the Chancellorship have been suspended for the duration of the emergency, several Senators upset at the erosion of democratic rights (Senator Amidala the most vocal amongst them) have insisted that the position of Speaker still be open to election.

"I am most grateful Chancellor. Thank you for your support."

I can't help but smirk as I remember the voting process in the Senate. I enjoy recounting it with the Speaker.

"You got an overwhelming majority of the vote as I recall."

"It helps Chancellor to run for a position unopposed."

"Indeed it does." I respond. It was easy to force any prospective candidates for the Vice-Chair not to run. Bribery and threats really do produce results after all, and Amedda is far to useful an underling to risk losing in something as petty as an election.

"Unopposed." I repeat. "Now _that_ is what I call an election."


	6. Hatred for the Weak

**Loteva: What I was trying to say was that in Palpatine's mind the Sith are the only thing that are going to last forever. The Jedi, well, if Palpatine has his way they won't be around for much longer. I hope that clears things up.**

**A lot of people probably think that for the younger chapters I am making Palpatine far to mature, and those who think that may be right, but for me when I read Darth Plagueis he seemed pretty mature already as a teenager, so this is how I am writing him. Parts of the dialogue for this chapter are inspired by the show Boss. **

**Please Leave a Review!**

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"Cosinga, Cosinga dear please let me in."

It has been nearly a year since I stopped using my given first name. Practically everyone who knows me has given up on calling me that. They know better than to persist. Well almost everyone that is. Mother seems quite persistent in clinging to the remains of the past. She's stupid like that it seems.

I've taken a habit to locking the door to my room when I wish to be alone. Mother never liked that, she never trusted me being left to my own devices for extended periods of time, especially not after that incident that precipitated my rejection of that name.

"Cosinga please open the door, I want to speak to you."

I ignore her protests and continue to read the text in front of me. My academic work isn't going to complete itself now will it?

She keeps pounding on the door; her voice gets shriller and shriller as her fist pounds on the door with increased rapidity. She'll tire out and go away inevitably. Sure enough she stops and walks away. Finally, some peace and quiet; now I can get this work done in time to go for a drive with my associates. There is supposed to be a race outside of Theed tonight and I don't intend to miss it.

Unfortunately for me though it would seem that Lady Luck is not smiling on me today, for within five minutes she has returned and I hear the sound of her taking off the control panel to the lock. It sounds like she is fiddling with the wires and circuits that compose the locking mechanism. The sound of her rattling around with the lock continues for another twenty minutes until finally she manages to override the lock and force the door open.

Hmmm. Mother is by no means an expert slicer but I am rather surprised that she had the will to waste so much time in order to get inside my room. She never had the spine to do something like that before. This will be most amusing I think. I look up from my datapad and fix her an inquisitive stare.

"To what do I owe this sudden and may I say unwanted interruption of my studies Mother?"

"I was calling you for over half an hour Son." She responds in an exasperated tone of voice.

"Really?" I ask. "I had thought that you were calling for Father."

"You know I was calling for you son." She says.

"The last time I checked I didn't answer to that name Mother." I respond rather icily.

"It is your name son. How long are you going to continue with this rebelliousness?"

I shake my head at her stupidity. She really doesn't get it. I suppose I am going to have to spell it out for her. I put down the pad and get out of my chair as I turn to face her completely.

"Why forever of course. Allow me to clarify something for you mother. I know this is going to be hard for someone with such a limited intellect as yourself but I will try to dumb it down for you."

"Cosinga I…" she begins to say.

"DON'T INTERRUPT!" I respond. That stops her in her tracks. A display of the more violent emotions is all that it takes to keep her in line. She's learned well at Father's hand.

"I have laid out the reasons why I have renounced that name before Mother, and I have neither the time nor the inclination to rehash them with you. This is not teenage angst. This is not a rebellious phase that I will inevitably grow out of. This is not a temporary fit. THIS. IS. PERMANENT." I put extra emphasis on these words in order to drive the point through her thickheaded skull. Hopefully it actually takes for once.

"Everyone else has accepted this, and yet it seems that you still stubbornly persist in calling me that. Know that it is most unwise mother to keep pushing me like this."

"Are you threatening me?" she says. That same timid tone has reappeared again. How sad.

"No, I am warning you. Stay out of my way." I look at my chronometer and realize that I am due to meet my associates at the race in a few minutes. I make my way towards the exit. "Well this has been a complete waste of my valuable time mother that I shan't get back anytime soon. Now if you will excuse me I have something to do that is actually important."

I make it out of the room and halfway down the hall before I hear her say something.

"Why do you hate me son?" I look at my chronometer again. I'll have to make this fast. I turn and head back into the room. Mother is now sitting in my chair by my bed. Oh joy, it looks like she is going to start crying. That's just what I need, more waterworks from the human doormat. "I loved you. I've loved you because you were my son. But all I have gotten in exchange is your scorn and hatred. Why do you hate me? What did I do wrong?"

"Why do I hate you? Why do I hate you? Look at yourself woman; you're a spineless wretch of a person. You have no backbone, no ambition, and no real goals in life. You are the weakest, most contemptible person I have ever had the displeasure of meeting."

"I, I'm your mother." She responds meekly. "I deserve your respect."

"You deserve nothing." I respond coldly. "My respect is earned, not freely handed out like candy to children. And you have done nothing with your miserable life to earn my respect. You are so easily cowed that it would be hilarious if it wasn't so pitiable. You have no drive and no determination. You have no firm desires or goals. You have nothing original to feel or contribute to this life. You have no real opinions on anything and you are incapable of disagreeing with anyone.

You are nothing more than a mindless drone, the servant of a pathetic old man with delusions of grandeur."

"Your father is a great man." She says timidly.

"Father is a low level hack." I fire back at her. "And you are his mindless supporter. If he is truly nothing, and he is, what does that make you as his personal bootlicker? Less than nothing. I admire strength and independence, and you dear mother have neither.

I admire people who make things happen, people who matter. And you, you don't matter. What little you have, what little you have achieved in your despondent life others have given to you. And that is your most grievous fault, your dependence on people like Father in order to survive. And the worst part is that you don't even have the basic competence or intelligence to achieve anything even if you did desire to be more."

I lean forward, putting my hands on the arms of the chair mother is sitting in. I lean in and get right in her face.

"You don't matter. No matter how hard you work, no matter how many futile sacrifices you make, no matter how deeply you commit it shall always be another persons hand that feeds you. You are a parasite, living off of the works of others, useless and inconsequential. If you were to die tomorrow nothing would change and few would mourn your passing. Why? Because you're weak, because you're dependent. If father were to die tomorrow what would you do with your new found freedom I wonder?"

I snort in disgust as I back away.

"Chances are you would find a new host to latch onto. You wouldn't try to make something of yourself; that would be too hard for that feeble mind of yours to even comprehend. No, the first designs to pop into that underdeveloped brain of yours would be on shifting your dependency to another. You are an empty shell, a mindless construct that shuffles about its dreary existence without drive or goal. You are one of many, an easily forgettable face in a crowd of thousands. Nothing more than one of the many nails in the plank of life, just waiting to be hammered down. BANG. BANG. BANG." With every utterance of the word bang I wrap my knuckles on the desk to reinforce my metaphor. She shakes with every knock.

As I leave that broken husk of a woman behind I say over my shoulder. "You think that because you gave birth to me that you have power over me. But you don't. You never have and you never will. So kindly desist with this pitiful illusion that you have some sort of influence on my life or anyone's life for that matter; for you are making an even bigger fool of yourself than usual."

"What would you have me do otherwise?" She asks sadly, broken even further than before by the truth of my words.

As I descend the staircase I call back, "The only thing you are capable of mother. Keep your head down, you mouth shut, and follow orders."


	7. Fall of an Angel, Rise of a Demon

**Thanks to everyone for the very kind reviews. I try to be as prolific as possible so that people don't forget about me. Each chapter only takes about an hour to write and no matter how busy my schedule gets I always have at least an hour per day that I can dedicate to my writing. Hope you guys like this chapter. I've had the idea floating around in my head for a long time now. Please leave a Review!**

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To the untrained observer it is simply another normal night on Coruscant. The view from the Chancellor's apartment at 500 Republica would seem to support this. Holographic billboards advertise their products, the skylanes are filled as ever with traffic and the distant skyscrapers are lit like brightly colored gems, bright enough to hold off the darkness of night. But tonight is not like other nights. History is being made tonight, right here, right now. In this single moment of time history shall change forever, as shall the life of one man who until now has dangled by the skin of his teeth over the yawning chasm that threatens to consume him.

In this lavish apartment two men are sitting across from one another, sipping drinks and discussing current events with one another. One knows what is going to happen tonight, the other does not.

"I must admit my friend that I am surprised that you have come to see me. After your rather public resignation from the Order and your vicious denunciation of the Republic I would have thought that you would have stayed as far away from the capital as possible."

The newly minted Count gets up from his chair and proceeds to the window, his gaze falls upon the ever busy skylanes, his cape billowing behind him.

"As much as I detest the corruption of the Senate Chancellor I cannot help but be drawn back to Coruscant. There is something about this planet that is quite alluring."

The Chancellor gets up and joins the Count at the window. "And what is that which you find so alluring?"

The Count takes a moment to think about just why he wants to be here. "There is an undeniable power here, a power that attracts all beings from all tracks of life with the promise of greatness."

"And here I thought all this time that the Jedi did not seek greater power." The Chancellor responds.

"I am no longer a Jedi Chancellor." The Count is quick to answer. "This is one of the reasons behind my resignation. The Order has tremendous power, but the Council wastes our potential. They fear power when they should embrace it. We could do so much more, we could be so much more. But we have bound ourselves in chains body, mind and soul to the Senate. We have allowed their impurity to taint us. The Jedi are nothing more than the servants of a corrupt government that prevents us from achieving true victory in our struggle against evil.

"Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me." The Chancellor says.

The Count turns and stares at him, seemingly dumbstruck. "The last few lines of the Sith Code?"

The Chancellor gives the Count a knowing smile. "You seem surprised my good Count."

"I am merely surprised that a politician should know those words by heart." The Count replies.

The Chancellor shakes his head and chuckles, "Dooku, Dooku, Dooku; I have found it necessary that if one is to fully understand the great mystery they must take a, how should I put it? _Larger_ view of things, and that means studying everything in detail, even the nature of the Darkside. Besides, don't those lines of Code essentially sum up your point of view on the Jedi and what their role in the galaxy should be?"

The Count takes a moment to compose his thoughts.

_I have him now._ The Chancellor thinks.

"I suppose that what you say is true Your Excellency, but it is most unwise of you to take such lore close to heart." The Count's voice lacks any real firmness, but rather it seems hollow, as if it doesn't really even believe what it is saying, but merely repeating what has been drilled in.

"Oh really Count? And why precisely is that?" The Chancellor asks.

"The Sith are animals Chancellor; mindless brutes whose selfishness brings only anarchy."

"The Sith are, Count? I'm no expert in the precise mechanics of grammar but don't you mean the Sith were? After all, have they not been extinct for nearly a millennium now?"

The Count shifts his weight, seemingly uncomfortable by the direction that the conversation is going in. _Good_.

"During the liberation of Naboo my former apprentice Qui-Gon Jinn was murdered by a Zabrak trained in the Darkside. The Council has no doubt now that he was a Sith." The Count says.

"What is there to worry about then? Wasn't this Sith destroyed by Jinn's Padawan?"

"Indeed Chancellor, but both Qui-Gon and his Padawan describe this Sith as a brutish thug, intelligent, but not nearly intelligent enough to be the sole mastermind behind the occupation of your homeworld. All of the evidence, what little of it there is points to there being another Sith Lord, probably a Master."

The Chancellor stares at Dooku for a few moments, and for a split second the Count feels as if the Chancellor is looking into his very soul. Finally the Chancellor speaks. He does not say what Dooku expected him to say.

"You blame the Council for Qui-Gon's death, don't you?"

Dooku is stunned, but nods in the affirmative. For the first time Dooku confides to anyone his feelings of betrayal by the Council,

"The Council should have sent at least a dozen knights when they heard Qui-Gon's report about the Sith attack on Tatooine. Instead they sent one knight and his apprentice alone. The arrogance that the Council displayed will never ceases to sicken me. As a Jedi I placed my trust in the Council, believing them wise enough to govern the Order and make sound decisions. But after this act of recklessness I knew that I could never trust anyone on the Council again. Their incompetence lead to his death."

"Is this why you left the Jedi Count?"

"Qui-Gon's death was the straw that broke the Bantha's back Chancellor, but my grievances with the Order have gone back many years before this. The problem I face now though is trying to figure out what to do next. I am a Count now, a man of great wealth and influence. And yet I find myself not knowing what to do with any of it."

_Come into my web said the Spider to the fly._ The Chancellor thinks to himself. Then he speaks. "Perhaps, since you know not what to do with your wealth or yourself you could help me."

Dooku looks skeptical at the idea. He won't be for long.

"Help you? Chancellor while I respect your commitment to restoring the Republic I feel that is ultimately an act in futility. The corruption runs far too deep. The system is broken beyond repair and will never be fixed no matter how hard you try."

The Chancellor gives a knowing laugh. "You think that I am trying to restore the Republic Count? I had thought that your level of political acumen would allow you to know better. My goals are not to reform the Republic, but do away with it."

"Do away with it?" Dooku asks, intrigued despite himself.

"It has always been my goal to inevitably get rid of this Republic and replace it with something… better, an Empire perhaps."

"This sounds like treason. Why would you tell me this?" Dooku asks.

"Because I know that you believe as I believe Dooku. Those graced with great power have the right and the obligation to do with it as we please. We can bring order to chaos and wipe away the filth that infests this galaxy. Let me show you something."

The Chancellors eyes, once bright blue become a sickly glowing yellow. To those in tune with the subtleties of the Force a barrier is lowered slightly, enough for those in the vicinity to sense the Darkside but not enough for the Jedi to detect from their far off Temple.

Dooku collapses into a chair. "You! You!" he sputters. It is all that he is able to say.

The Shadow offers a predatory smirk and gives an answer to the unasked question. "Yes Dooku, it was I. I have observed you from afar for many years now. You have great potential, potential that shouldn't have been wasted on the Jedi. You and I are not so different you know. We both want more. We both want to leave our marks on history. We both believe that we know what is best for the future of the galaxy, and we both believe that only we and we alone know how to institute the change necessary for the future, a change that can only be brought about with us and us alone as the undisputed leaders of this galaxy."

The Count finally realizes something. "You masterminded the invasion of your own homeworld. All those people who suffered and died, they died so you could get enough sympathy in order to be elected Chancellor."

The Shadow smiles in appreciation. "You are as perceptive as I had thought Count. Rest assured that those who gave their lives died for a greater purpose. My purpose. I intend to rouse the galaxy from its stagnation and create a better universe. I can only do that if I have complete control of everything. Other people cannot be trusted to govern themselves and so I must do it for them."

"You had Qui-Gon murdered." There is tone of anger in the Count's usually refined voice. _Good. Let the hatred build_. The Shadow thinks.

"That accusation is both correct and incorrect." The Shadow responds. "It all depends on your point of view." The Shadow begins circling around the chair the Count is sitting in. It is almost over.

"The Sith and the Jedi are irreconcilable enemies. One must inevitably destroy the other. It is the only logical recourse. I could no sooner have asked my old apprentice, Darth Maul to refrain from killing Master Jinn than I could ask a bird not to fly or a fish not to swim. If anything the Jedi Council is more to blame than I am. They should have sent more reinforcements, they should have known better than to place Qui-Gon in such a precarious position. It is unfortunate though. Perhaps Qui-Gon would have seen reason as you have. Perhaps he would have joined us." I know better. I know he would never have joined us. Qui-Gon Jinn may have had his disagreements with the Council but he never would have joined the Sith. But I will say anything to get Dooku on my side.

Dooku understands and believes what I have said. The Shadow continues.

"You have spent your entire life prostrate before the altar of lies that is the Jedi Order. You were a protector of the status quo, a servant of a crumbling old regime. But I know you; you have always been fascinated with the ways of darkness, tempted by the secrets and the promises of power that it whispers into your ears. Join me and together we can rule the galaxy."

"You admit to having done such terrible things. What is to stop you from doing even worse?" Dooku asks, his voice wavering.

"I have done only what is necessary my friend." The Shadow responds. "Every death serves a greater purpose. I seek to remake the galaxy in my own image. In order to do this the weak must be expunged. The process will be painful, but the end result will be more than worth it. But I cannot do it alone. Maul was an able warrior, but he lacked the keen insights that you possess that would become essential to helping me achieve the ultimate plan. Use my knowledge Dooku, I beg of you."

The Shadow gestures towards the window and the vast cityscape that extends from horizon to horizon. "Ask for anything, anything in the entire galaxy that you desire and I shall give it to you. Become my apprentice and together we shall bring down the corrupt Republic and achieve true peace and security. Join me and the stars themselves shall be at your beck and call. What do you say Dooku?"

Silence reigns supreme throughout the room. Seconds turn to minutes, and the minutes feel like hours as The Count of Serenno deals with his inner demons. A war of conscience and desire rages throughout his body, but the end result is a given.

The Count gets out of the chair he was sitting in and kneels before his liege.

"I…I pledge myself to you and to the ways of the Sith."

The Darkside gathers strength as an unholy ceremony begins.

"Do you forever reject the teachings of the Jedi?"

"I do."

"Will you do whatever is necessary to achieve the ultimate victory of the Sith?"

"I will."

"And will you forswear all former friendships and alliances in order to fully dedicate yourself to the cause of the Darkside?"

"I will."

"Then it is finished. Today you are reborn, liberated from the chains that bound you as a servant of the Light. You are no longer Dooku, Count of Serenno.

From this day forward until the end of creation itself you shall be known as Darth… Tyranus, Dark Lord of the Sith."

Dooku closes his eyes, and Tyranus opens them again. He raises his head. Brown eyes meet yellow and a mutual understanding is formed, a dark bond between master and apprentice.

"Thank you Master…" Tyranus pauses.

"Sidious." Answers the Shadow.

"Master Sidious." Tyranus repeats.

_Yes, Dooku shall serve me well_ thinks the Shadow. _He shall serve as an excellent placeholder and scapegoat until young Skywalker is old enough. For now though Tyranus shall be a suitable substitute. _

"Rise Lord Tyranus. There is much that I must tell you."

The new Dark Lord stands before his Master and the two begin to discuss their plans for the future.

The conversation lasts long into the night and well into the morning.


	8. The Consequences of Power

**Steven: I always saw cremation as kind of being the de facto way of dealing with the dead in Star Wars, but yeah you could see it that way. Maybe as a final take that to his old Master perhaps.**

**Loteva: I feel that I have done enough of the whole him ridiculing others thing. It gets mildly repetitive, so I wrote it as him being in one of his more calculating moments rather than him being in his contemptuous moments. Not really a valid excuse on my part but I hope that makes sense.**

**Please Leave a Review!**

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"_A small Rebel Force has penetrated the shield and landed on Endor."_

"_Yes I know."_

"_My Son is amongst them."_

"_Are you sure?"_

"_I have felt him my Master."_

"_Strange that I have not."_

-Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine, 4 ABY

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It is strange, most strange indeed. Yes, strange and if I dare say so myself slightly disconcerting. I should have sensed the boy immediately, and yet he has slipped past me as if he wasn't even there. Perhaps I have lowered my defenses without even recognizing it. I allow my senses to extend, sending tendrils of the Darkside to scan and sweep the Sanctuary Moon and the system around it in search of Skywalker.

I sense nothing.

I try again and again. The result is the same each time; absolute failure. I allow my rage from each failure to fuel my power, allowing me to broaden the range of my search.

I find nothing, not a trace of Skywalker at all.

Lord Vader was not lying to me, that much is abundantly clear. He truly believes that he has sensed Skywalker's presence.

The visions of the future that I have seen made it clear that Skywalker would come to Endor. His compassion for his father makes him predictable. And yet he has managed to arrive without my knowledge. I should have sensed him when he arrived. How is it possible that such an untrained would be Jedi could get by me so easily?

Perhaps I should stop denying the truth and simply accept the reality of the situation.

I'm dying.

I am an old man, eighty six years old as of this year. But that should not be a problem. With modern medicine at my disposal I could easily live to be one hundred and thirty, if not older. But I am dying of an incurable sickness, a cancer that has devoured me from the inside out for decades, a drug that I would not and cannot ever quit.

I am addicted to the Darkside, and I am now paying the price for my addiction.

All power comes with a price; that is what Plagueis once told me those many years ago. I thought myself different. In my mind I was above the petty laws that govern reality. I thought that I could achieve unlimited power without consequence. But it would seem that I am not as above the rest as I had once thought. The power the Darkside offers its practitioners is indeed tremendous, but it comes at a price most dear.

Prolonged exposure to the potent energies of the Darkside ravage the body and sap the life force right out of you. I can see it happening right now. All I have to do is lift up my left hand and look. I can see it all; flesh and bone, blood and muscle, all of it atrophied by the power coursing through every particle of my physical form. I can see every cell, emaciated and exhausted as one by one they shrivel and die. Like any power source the Darkside requires fuel to continue on, and so it consumes the life energy of its wielders. Since the time I learned of this necrosis I have poured through tomes of literature, delved into the teachings of ancient Sith long since dead. All in vain. Any knowledge they might have possessed that could have aided me has been lost to the mists of time.

Vader does not know any better, and neither do any of my acolytes, but I am physically weakened. Every day the pain increases and it becomes harder to ignore. In the past I could simply call on the Force whenever I was overcome with agony and the pain would no longer be felt. It would still exist, as would the cause of that pain, but I would no longer feel it as severely. Even the Midichlorians that provide my connection to the Force are dying, weakening my connection to the Darkside even further. So feeble has my body become that I am forced at certain times to rely on a cane just to keep myself from falling.

But now the more that I call on the Darkside to dull the pain the more the rot spreads throughout my body. I cannot heal myself despite my efforts. No physical medicine could cure this, and I will never be desperate enough to taint myself by even trying to draw on the healing powers provided by the Light side of the Force. Soon the Darkside shall consume this physical form whole, leaving my soul without an anchor to tether it to the physical plane.

It's funny now that I think of it. For the longest time I didn't believe in the soul. Even as a Sith I had doubted its existence. But after years of research I have discovered that I do indeed have a soul. It is black as pitch, shriveled and emaciated, but it exists, and it is mine, and when Death inevitably comes to claim me it will find that I shall not go quietly.

For you see, scarred, deformed, and weakened though this body is my mind remains as sharp and analytical as ever. I will not allow anything to come between myself and power, not even death. I realize now that I had been foolish to have killed off Plagueis when I did. I should have waited longer to uncover his immortal abilities. But the opportunity had presented itself and at the time I did not know when I would get another chance. Now it matters not, for I have discovered another way.

Utilizing Sith Alchemy and modern science I have created for myself an army of clones, empty shells devoid of personality or thought that when the time comes shall serve as my new host. I shall become functionally immortal by transferring my conscience from body to body. I have already tested it on several subjects and the process seems sound. My power is secured.

In the end, even death bows in submission before me.

I receive a transmission from Lord Vader on the moon below. His son has surrendered himself into his Father's custody. So the boy was on Endor. This is clearly a sign that this body is failing beyond the point of no return. I shall have to transfer myself into a new one soon. But not I think until after the events which are about to transpire.

For a brief second my mind is assaulted by an unfamiliar sensation, a sensation I had not felt since I was a young child. Is this fear? Yes. It is fear of the future and fear for the unknown. What if the process fails? What if some unforeseen variable interferes? What if I die and don't come back?

I quickly crush such thoughts. A Sith Lord can have no fears and no doubts. Everything will be fine, everything will be fine. I repeat that to myself again and again as if to reassure myself, but for the life of me I cannot tell why I am so uneasy.

My victory is assured. I have foreseen it. Skywalker shall become my new apprentice. He shall slay his decrepit father and take his place at my side. There are no other options.

It is an unusual thing, to see into the future. In my prime I could see many possible futures. I have seen in my time many events and possibilities that could have been but never were. To me it is like being at a fork in the road with an infinite number of paths open to me. I could see the end results of each path.

I saw futures where I was victorious and futures where I was defeated. I saw futures where I was nothing and futures where I was a god. All I needed to do was choose the most optimal path and travel down it. It really was that easy.

However as the years have gone by the number of paths that I can see, the number of alternate futures has dwindled. I can only see one future now, a future with myself as an immortal with Skywalker at my side, the entire galaxy prostrate before me as I rule supreme for all eternity.

I had thought at first that this was a message from the Darkside, a message which proclaimed that my destiny was finally set in stone, that there could be no other alternative but the future that I saw and wanted so dearly.

But a small voice whispers to me from the back of my mind.

"_What if_" the voice begins, "_What if your ability to use the Force is diminished, much as it was for the Jedi those many years ago? What if your use of the Darkside has made you blind to the ways and plans of the Light?"_

This dissenting thought is crushed like any other. I am in control of the Darkside, it does not control me. There is only one future left, and that is my future. I will be immortal, I will have absolute power. Vader will die and Skywalker shall be my new apprentice. There can be no room for any doubt.

I am Darth Sidious, the physical manifestation of the Darkside of the Force and Emperor of the Galactic Empire. I bow to no man or no thing, not even death and not even fear.

For in the end death is but a stumbling block on the path I tread. I am beyond it, just as I am beyond everything else.

I sense that the elevator is ascending with Vader inside, accompanied by his son. Now I sense him, now that he is so close by.

Everything will go as I have foreseen. Everything will go according to plan. There is no room for any deviation. Soon I shall discard this body for another. The Rebels will be crushed, Skywalker will be my servant and the galaxy will be mine forever.

And yet despite this confidence, as the doors to the throne room open, that same small voice speaks in the back of my mind.

"_But what if?"_


	9. My True Face

**I'd like to apologize to everyone for not updating over the last two days. As is often the case real life intervened and I had neither the time nor the will to write anything. But I am back now with something that will hopefully make up for it. Please leave a Review!**

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"_And so the mask becomes the man. I shall miss the face of Palpatine, but for now the face of Sidious shall suffice."_

The air smells of ozone and necrosis. A hint of burning flesh and cloth wafts through the air, pungent and foul to the taste. The otherwise immaculate carpet is covered with shattered glass, leaving a hint as to what was. Even more revealing are the three freshly murdered corpses, still strewn throughout the inner office.

It is done.

The Temple has been quarantined and the Jedi within expunged.

Order 66 has been executed and across the galaxy the Jedi burn. These three were but the first to fall to the purge. It is somewhat ironic now that I consider it. These three were amongst the finest swordsmen their Order had produced and in their darkest hour when their fellow knights might have needed them the most they were among the first to die. Then again, considering their opponent they didn't have much of a chance, now did they? I look at my chronometer.

Two hours. It has only been two hours since the galaxy changed forever. How quickly and how radically things can change.

Lord Vader is off to Mustafar to deal with the last remnants of the Separatist movement, leaving me alone with nothing better to do but wait. After so many years of plotting and political scheming I have finally had my revenge. Now it is just a matter of using my enemies' incompetence to gain the sympathy I need for the final move.

The building is on lockdown with no one in our out. The emergency session of Congress will not occur until late tomorrow, which means that for the first time in a long time I have an extended period of time with nothing to do.

You would think that such a monumental coup would require an immense amount of work in its final stages in order to be successful, but I find that all of the heavy lifting has already been done. I am now for all intents and purposes Emperor of the Galaxy. Tomorrow's session is nothing more than a gesture that shall make it official. What to do? What to do?

The wind whips about and my robes flap in the breeze. I look out upon the glittering lights of Coruscant, shining in the night with brilliant flare, the crown jewel of my new Empire. It is all mine, all of it, every building, every speeder, every light, every person. _Mine_.

Momentarily chilled by the breeze I retreat into my more private office off to the side of the main one.

"Pardon me Master Tiin." I whisper to the dead Jedi as I step over his body in order to get to my chair.

I sit down and observe the cadavers for a moment before turning to the window. But I am not observing the buildings or the lights or the traffic. Instead I see a monstrous thing. Its face is both melted and frozen at the same time. Its teeth are jagged and hideously yellow, the same color as its eyes. Its eyes, above all this is the most striking thing about the creature. Its eyes seem to bear into your soul with a malevolent gleam that seem to almost possess a will of their own, a will to wrap its hands around the beating heart of the physical personification of good and squeeze until it is no more.

It is my face, and to me it is beautiful.

It is truly a relief to no longer have to wear a mask every day. It was almost physically painful at times to pretend to be such a man as Palpatine. The years on end of restraint, of having to pretend to be a kind, generous person were almost too much to bear. I had quite a dichotomous relationship with that face that I wore for so many years. I had always hated it, for it was the face of a weak man, a man concerned more with his friends and others than with power, the only thing that matters. Though it was an illusion I still despised that face for what it represented.

But I also loved that face, for in the end it was my greatest tool. No one suspected me because of that face. It was the face of a good, honest, decent man. Surely, the people who knew me reasoned, no man who looks so kind, so mild mannered could possibly be capable of doing anything wrong?

It's ironic I suppose, in the end the greatest liar in history couldn't even stand the ultimate lie, the lie that was himself. There never was a Palpatine, not as the people knew him. To the galaxy at large Palpatine is like a grandfather; affectionate, selfless, hardworking, and dedicated to those he cares for.

That man never existed.

There is only Sidious. Since my earliest memory I knew that I was better than everyone else, that I was above and beyond anyone I came across. I had big dreams and ideas, but I lacked the ambition or the know how to achieve something as great as this. I have always yearned for more, even at that young age, never satisfied even momentarily with what I had. My indoctrination into the Order of the Sith Lords provided me with the clarity and the means by which my ambition could be matured and given focus.

In the end I think that the greatest thing the Sith ever taught me was the ability to manipulate others so completely and so easily. The face of Palpatine was the primary tool that I used to achieve my goals. It deflected all criticism and unwanted attention while providing for the galaxy a symbol, almost an idol if you will for the entire galaxy and its populace to love and respect. They loved the face of Palpatine and all that he had to offer to them. Many will wonder why I wouldn't simply have plastic surgery done to restore my former appearance. The truth is that this is my real face, and that I no longer care to keep it hidden. But I think I shall have it spun differently over the news.

This shall be the face of a martyr to them, the face of pain and untold suffering. The people shall be repulsed at first, but the time will come when they shall embrace it just as they embraced the face of Palpatine.

This face shall be seen as a badge of honor, the consequence of unswerving dedication to public service and the willingness to do what is right even in the face of overwhelming odds and horrible opponents to the hard fought peace that we have rightfully earned.

Soon they shall come to love the face of Sidious, just as they loved the face of Palpatine. They shall pity this face and feel sorry for its wearer, for surely he endured great torture for them.

I wouldn't be surprised if someday in the future people started saying that the Emperor suffered for their sins. Perhaps they shall reason that it was their failures, their apathy that allowed war and corruption to run rampant without check, and that kind Palpatine, bold Palpatine, loving Palpatine was the only one brave and courageous enough to fight on their behalf while they did nothing. Perhaps then they shall try and make it up to me in their minds by giving me their undivided attention and loyalty. This line of thought pleases me.

Yes, they shall love this face just as they loved the face of Palpatine. They shall love it just as I love it, but for different reasons of course. I love it because it is the truth of me. I love it because I no longer have to hide in plain sight anymore.

I am now both mentally and physically the personification of the power of the Darkside of the Force, and I can allow my face to be seen in public for all the galaxy to see and revere. I am everything that the Jedi loath and detest, and in the end it is I who am loved and accepted while they are hated and rejected by the people.

That is the sweetest victory of all, the Jedi are now despised by the very people they had dedicated themselves to protect. And it is this face that shall seal the deal.

I shall tell the people that the Jedi are responsible for all of this, the war, the attempt on my life, and a coup against the Republic. The people shall think that it is bad enough for the Jedi to have done those horrible things, but years from now when the memory of the war and the Republic have faded they shall look upon this face and shudder. They shall remember the way I used to be and curse the Jedi with renewed vigor. After all, how could they do such a horrible thing to such a helpless old man?

Yes, the face of Palpatine served me well, but that time is passed. For now the face of Sidious shall serve me well.

What never was is nothing once again. What is meant to be hated shall be loved and what is meant to be loved shall be hated. Fair is foul and foul is fair. The world has truly been turned upside down.

But it is no longer the time to muse on such philosophical ideas. I have a speech to prepare, and I sense that things are not completely over yet. I sense that a few Jedi live yet. Yoda is among them. He shall come in search of me. It is inevitable. Hmm. He shall make a fine addition to my mantlepiece.

Things may not be over yet, but the end is drawing upon us all quickly. And with every end there is also a beginning. A shining new era is about to begin and the face of Sidious shall be the face of this new era.

I step over the bodies of Masters Kolar and Fisto on the way out of the office. "Rest easy gentlemen, for a new era dawns, an era devoid of the Jedi. You fought hard against the Sith, and I am humble enough of a man to admit that your Order was once a worthy adversary. Rest in pieces, and know that you had the honor of dying at the hands of a Master."

**There is a lot of debate over the whole "why is Palpatine's face all melted and awful looking" thing. My personal theory is that it was his true face all along concealed through some Force trick and that Palpatine was putting so much effort into the whole force lightning attack on Windu that he dropped the facade since they already knew he was a Sith. That is my theory and I'm sticking to it.**


	10. The Inaugural Address

**Green Verde: I read your profile page and I agree with every word. Curse Disney for cancelling the Clone Wars. And curse them for planning on only releasing two arcs that won't tie up anything at all (they left Darth Maul ALIVE!).**

**Dirty Dani: Thanks for the review, glad you like it.**

**I'm going to try for a more lighthearted chapter this time around. Hopefully I don't fail. Please leave a Review!**

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_Italics=Palpatine's thoughts_

"Ladies and Gentlemen, beings of all civilized worlds, I present to you the new Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic, Palpatine of Naboo!"

Applause erupts throughout the Senate Chamber as every holocam droid hovers around the Chancellor's podium, broadcasting live to worlds across the galaxy.

_Show Time_.

The Chief Justice of the Supreme Court stands before the new Chancellor beaming with joy as he announces, "Senator, please raise your right hand, place your left hand on the constitution and repeat after me."

_Why do I have to raise my right hand and put my left hand on the constitution? What, do they want my hands to be where everyone can see them so I don't cross my fingers while taking the oath? How childish. When I remold the galaxy in my image people will be allowed to let their hands swing freely at their sides when they take oaths._

"I Palpatine…"

_No I'm Palptine, not you. Wow that was a horrible joke. Am I really that bored with all of this?_

"I Palpatine…"

"Do solemnly swear…"

"Do solemnly swear…" _To inflict murder and mayhem upon my enemies like a self-righteous deity and destroy all who stand in my way of achieving absolute authority over these miserable cretins._

"That I shall faithfully execute the Office of the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic,"

"That I shall faithfully execute the Office of the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic,"_ Whenever it suits me._

"And that I will to the best of my abilities,"

"And that I will to the best of my abilities," _undermine this pathetic excuse for a government and try to replace it with a government that is actually remotely competent. Preferably one run exclusively by yours truly._

"Preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the Republic."

"Preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the Republic." _Idiots._

"Congratulations Chancellor Palpatine." The judge moves to shake my hand and I accept. _Oh no my dear judge, it is I who should be congratulating you. You just inaugurated the first Sith Lord as Supreme Chancellor. That must be a first._

The Chief Justice exits the podium and is lowered by elevator into the holding office. Ex-Chancellor Valorum shakes my hand with what is obviously a sad attempt at a smile plastered on his face, but in the end it just comes off as a pained grimace.

"Congratulations on your election Chancellor." Valorum mutters. He looks absolutely miserable. If he wasn't such a career politician he'd probably break down and cry._ Thank heavens the droids are recording this. I must get a copy of the look on Valorum's face for posterity. This is absolutely fantastic._

Valorum follows the Chief Justice down the elevator of the Podium to the holding office below and out into retirement and obscurity. _Don't let the door hit you on the way out._

I turn to face the cameras and the crowd.

"Honorable delegates of the Senate, citizens of the Republic, my friends," _lend me your ears, for I have come to eradicate the Republic, not to praise it._

"On this day we celebrate the most critical aspect of our democracy," _By making ME the leader._

"the the peaceful and orderly transition of power from one leader to the next. I should like to thank Chancellor Finis Valorum," _for being a completely incompetent idealist whose naivete made it all that easier for me to take power._ "for his unswerving devotion to the principles of our democracy and his tireless work to better the people of the Republic."

"I should also like to thank those of you who voted for me in the election and praise you," _for being the mindless, spineless sheep that you are. Keep it up and I might deign it appropriate for you to survive to see my New Order in all its glory."_ "for entrusting me with this hallowed responsibility and maintaining basic faith in our parliamentary system of government. It is a responsibility I dare not shirk," _How else am I going to become Emperor? I didn't get this far by doing nothing._ "but rather is a responsibility that I accept and welcome with determination. We have a long road ahead of us," _We have a war to start, some exterminating of some pesky Jedi, and a galaxy that has to get used to taking orders from me. _"And there is much that needs to be accomplished." _Those 50 foot statues of me aren't going to build themselves you know. _

"Our Republic faces severe obstacles that shall test the very structure of our democracy," _that tends to happen when the government is comprised completely of corrupt backstabbing idiots. Who knew?_ "We must work hard to help the disenfranchised and the dispossessed who have suffered from neglect over the past several years," _The new slave camps I have planned out will certainly cut into the unemployment rates. _"and recognize the root causes of the problems that have allowed so many to go unaccounted for." _I'm talking to you, Lot Dod and company_.

"For too long this grand Republic has been in the thrall of a disease that has left the soul of the galaxy rotten, a cancer that has for decades lied in the heart of the Republic. This disease is" _THE SITH! No, I'm just kidding._ "corruption. We must combat this decay of the values and ethical integrity that the Republic has stood for these countless millennia." _The corrupt senators aren't even remotely worried. They've heard it all before. It's just song and dance to them. All bark and no bite. Well gentlemen the time is coming when you will all be singing to a different tune. I made you, each and every one of you. You've served as excellent patsies and scapegoats, but soon I shall break you. _

"There are those who say that this Republic's best years are behind it." _They happen to be completely right._ "But I say no. Nothing is impossible," _not for a Sith._ "if we work together. Together we can forge a better tomorrow. A tomorrow that our children and their children's children can be proud of." _I hate children, they're stupid, loud, volatile and they haven't got the vote, so they can't vote for me. You might as well be talking to a duracrete wall. It would be a much more satisfying conversation at the least._

"I love this Republic." _I love how pathetically easy this all was_. "And I wish to serve it in the best way I can." _By taking it out behind the wood shed and bludgeoning it to death with a crowbar._

"Only together can progressive change be made. We have made it through a terrible crisis. It is surely an indication that change is needed when one of the Republic's otherwise most respectable commerce guilds can sink so low as to invade and occupy a member world of the Republic." _And screw it up so completely_._ I mean, how hard is it for a battle hardened army to occupy a planet full of pacifists? Apparently very hard it seems."_

"But we have triumphed. The forces of justice have prevailed against the corrupt and the wicked." _A Jedi ended up getting gutted like a fish, I have the most force sensitive individual in the galaxy as a potential replacement apprentice and I get to be the Supreme Chancellor. All in all a good day, even though I did lose Maul. Eh, I was planning on getting rid of him anyways._

"And I vow to you that this is only the beginning." _I have the most wonderful plans for a giant battlestation that can blow up planets. A public works project like that will take care of unemployment in a split._

"I promise to restore the remembered glory days of the Republic, the days when the Senate was respected and revered by all, the days of expansion and exploration, the days of peace and prosperity!" _I can sense the hope building across the galaxy. They believe me; they really do believe me and everything that I say. How readily they accept the comforting lies I tell. My ascension is assured._

"Today marks the beginning of a new era." _One could even call it a New Order of sorts_. "And I shall lead this Senate and this Republic into that bright and glorious future. Let us work together then, hand in hand in the spirit of cooperation and brotherhood that makes this Republic great." _I can't believe I just said that! Such sentimental drivel. I think I'm going to be sick._

"We have the tools and the talents to create a better future for all. Let us work together and forge that new future. Let us create a better, happier galaxy. Let us have peace."

The Senate bursts into applause. They know where the power lies and they want to share in the glory. _Well let them. Let them seek the bread crumbs of greatness that fall at my feet. Let them believe the lies I tell them. It really is that easy I suppose. _

_Yes, everything is going according to plan._


	11. A Thirst For Power

**My apologies to everyone for not writing anything recently. Real life intervened again and frankly I didn't have the time or energy to write anything. I suppose I was a little burned out. I have a moment right now and I plan to take advantage of it. Hopefully this makes up for it. Minor Fourth Wall breaking will ensue. Please read and review!**

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My life's ambition has been fulfilled and unlimited power is mine. But why do I crave such power?

Since my earliest memory I have always yearned for greater power and influence, being a member of noble family will do that to you. It started off in small, almost innocent ways. When I was a child I would always strive to be the center of attention and to have the most of everything, be it the most toys or the most food or the most "friends" (read willing pawns). But as I aged my desire to gain more evolved. I developed a bit of an inferiority complex back then. I'm not ashamed to admit it, for I feel that it helped to spark the fire that created that which I am today. Besides, if one is to achieve true greatness one must recognize his own faults so that he might overcome them. After all, great though I am even I am not above error. Not yet anyways.

I had to be the best and have the best of everything. I had to be at the top of my class, the fastest racer, and the overall best at everything that I took part in.

"If you're not first you're last!" That was a phrase that father was often fond of repeating much like a broken holorecorder. He may have been a completely incompetent fool but even he could recognize important statements and take them to heart. I certainly did.

If you're not first you're last. I suppose that I to took that to heart as well. It became my mantra during my earlier days, my reason to be as it were. One could even argue that it is still my mantra to this day. But I never asked myself up until now why I thought the way I did. Why was I so driven? Why was I so overly compelled to compete with others? And why was I so determined, nay, obsessed with achieving absolute victory?

To be overwhelmingly honest I never gave the why of it much thought. I had bigger goals in mind; my apprenticeship to Plagueis, my election as Senator and later Chancellor, my ascension to the rank of Master, and of course the start of the war, the destruction of the Jedi and my coronation as Emperor. But now my life's goal has finally been accomplished. I am the Emperor, most of my major enemies are dead or in hiding, I rule over this galaxy with an iron fist and I am loved and feared by trillions.

I suppose the main thing that caused me to ponder this predicament came about this morning. It was a standard debriefing. There was a veritable mountain of legislation that my advisors had insisted on bringing to my attention; agricultural subsidy reforms, proposed tax hikes in the Colonies, requests from nearly every government ministry for an increase in funding and a long list on why, and reports and requisition forms for more weapons and ammunition for well over a thousand different theaters of operation in the military on land, air, and space.

These meetings as you can imagine were monotonous, slow, and dragged on throughout the first half of the day. It was around the seventh hour of meetings that I started to wonder why I had ever wanted to become Emperor in the first place, and I spent the next three hours while my advisers droned on about block grants looking over the reasons why I developed such a thirst for power.

I don't regret becoming Emperor, not one bit. The meetings may be long and dull, but the _perks_ more than make up for the monotonous grind. The feeling of ecstasy at having such complete control over the lives of so many is something that I could never give up. But that just reminds me of the question, why do I feel this way?

I would never admit this out loud and I am loath to even admit it to myself, but I suppose my need for power came about as a result of my childhood and the relationship (or lack thereof) I had with my Father.

Now I know what you are thinking dear viewer, how could a being so wise and powerful as I stoop so low as to use his childhood problems as justification for his desire for greater power? Surely someone as great and terrible as I would have a better way of explaining how he came to be instead of that tired old cliché. But I am afraid that it is the cold truth of the situation.

As a child I grew up in a world of privilege. Naturally I developed a sense of entitlement. The galaxy and everything therein was rightfully mine. In school I took great pride in being able to manipulate my classmates into getting anything I wanted. It came so naturally to me and so easily as well. I felt that I was better than them because I was not as prone to manipulation as they were.

I may have been satisfied with that if things hadn't changed for me. As I grew up I recognized that I was in the power of my father. As his son I was under his thumb, dependent on his whims. Naturally this had never sat well with me. I had always hated father. My earliest memory of him was one of cold contempt. This was to be the man I was supposed to respect and adore? I think not. I saw through the charade that Father put on for Mother's sake. He was never a great man or an important man. He was a low level nobody, an absolute nothing.

One day I realized a terrible truth that shook me to the core of my being. If he is nothing and I am supposed to be beneath him as his son, what does that make me?

Less than nothing of course.

It was then at the tender age of six that I began to revolt against the system which demanded my subordination to my supposed superiors. I was never nothing. I knew that I was better than him, better than all of them. But I think no one believed me. They surely shook their heads and smiled at my youthful rebellion. And so I developed a compulsion, an all-encompassing addiction to prove to the entire galaxy that I was their superior.

I started off small by excelling in academic work, racing, and generally finding new and improved ways of defying Father. But these acts were merely small and inconsequential acts of youth, petty and ultimately forgettable.

The Sith provided me with the means to truly ascend. The Order of the Sith Lords managed to both satisfy and fuel my addiction to power, for through greater power I could achieve greater recognition.

By this point in the narrative dear reader I am sure you are shaking your head in scorn and derision. So the greatest Sith Lord who ever lived was just an insecure little boy who just wanted daddy dearest and company to love him? Pathetic. That may look true from a certain point of view, but the reality of the situation was slightly more nuanced. I did not strive for greatness and power out of a desire for love, for in the end love is but a superfluous and ultimately fleeting emotion that signifies nothing in particular.

The reality was that, at first I was doing what I did out of sheer spite for the entire universe. I felt at that time when I was young that everyone looked upon me with derision. And so I went out of my way to persevere and gain greater control over my life just in order to defy my naysayers.

But times change and so do people. As my quest for greater power continued the reasons for it changed, becoming less out of spite than out of compulsion. Power would provide me independence and recognition for the great wonder that I truly am.

I looked upon my classmates, my associates and my family, analyzing who they were and what would likely become of them. All of them would lead inconsequential lives, work at their meaningless jobs, get married, maybe have children, and inevitably expire. That is life for the vast majority of people, merely going through the motions by performing ultimately meaningless tasks of drudgery while trying to enjoy what limited time you had. Perhaps their children would remember them, and maybe their grandchildren if they were lucky enough, but after that they would be forgotten, swallowed up by the mists of time.

If there was one thing that I feared as a child it was death, for death equals not only loss but a complete erasure of your very self from history. Everyone will forget you in time if you die without power. It would be as if you had never existed, and all that you had accomplished in life would amount to nothing.

This drove me as I grew up more than anything. It was no longer out of spite for my parents that I sought greater power, but rather a determination to be remembered. And in that I have been successful beyond my wildest dreams. Ten thousand years from now every man and woman alive across the galaxy shall remember the name Palpatine and speak it with reverence and awe.

I admit that I would never say such things aloud to my advisers or supporters, for such motivations could be misinterpreted as an act of weakness or desperation. But I feel satisfied with revealing this to you dear reader, for I think that, unlike some of the more gullible yes men I surround myself with and call advisers you have a certain modicum of intelligence that will allow you to recognize the **DIRE** consequences of revealing such information to others.

Perhaps these things are not the best motivations for an Emperor to have, nor are they fully adequate justifications for my drive to dominate the galaxy, but history is written by the winners, and I have all of the time in the galaxy to write out the history books. Yes, after countless decades of scheming I finally have everything that I ever wanted and it is everything that I dreamed of and more. But even though I have everything a man could reasonably want I still am not satisfied. There is still much to be done and much more to be gained. There are unknown enemies to be eradicated, future rebellions to destroy, and immortality to be gained. I relish the opportunity to show all who would oppose me just how powerful I am, for the understanding of my invincibility shall come to my enemies only at the painful and bitter end.

With the Darkside as my willing servant I have become the greatest power in the known universe, and now that I am on top I intend to stay there forever.

It truly is good to be Emperor.


	12. At the Opera Tonight

**Loteva: How could I turn down a request from you? Oddly enough I had just been to the theatre myself over the weekend to see Urinetown before you posted that request. Strangely enough I get the feeling that that is a musical that Palpatine would enjoy. I'm weird I know. I highly recommend it though.**

**Please Leave a Review!**

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It is another beautiful night on Coruscant. The skies are cloudless, allowing countless stars to twinkle like diamonds resting on black velvet. The planet itself seems to glow with a golden sheen as artificial lighting from a million skyscrapers and a billion speeders light up the night. Many a poet has waxed nostalgically about the glorious brightness of Coruscant, for in the end what better metaphor could there be for the vibrant and shining heart of the Republic than Coruscant at night.

Frankly all of that light hurts my eyes. What others see as beautiful I see as simply gaudy. But it matters not, for tonight more important things are transpiring in locations that are thankfully less bright and jarring. For the first time in countless months I have managed to arrange for myself an evening free of meetings and strategy sessions. But what does a Chancellor do in his precious few off hours? Why, go to the opera of course.

Ah the opera. Let the lower income hooligans have their low brow comedic programs. Let them keep their overly sentimental dramas and their brainless reality programs. Those of us with actual class and taste will subscribe to more sophisticated forms of entertainment thank you very much.

It really is a dying art, the opera. It seems that fewer and fewer people have an appreciation for the classics. What a shame.

As I walk onto the Chancellor's balcony and prepare to take my seat my ears are treated to the low roar of voices throughout the audience, a veritable sea of life pulsing with every emotion and thought across the spectrum. As I make my appearance the voices stop. As one, the audience turns to face the balcony; heads inclined upwards, all eyes on me. As one they break into respectful applause. Ever since the war began it has become something of a mandatory tradition to either applaud or bow before the Chancellor whenever he makes his appearance at such events.

No one really knows who originated the custom, but no one seems to have much of a problem bowing and scraping before their future liege. After all, they are going to be doing a great deal of that in the future.

I give a polite nod and a smile to my adoring public and take my seat. The show is about to begin. The lights dim, the rest of the audience finds their seats and sit down. The curtains sweep apart, the orchestra is engaged and the show begins.

As the opera continues through its first act I cannot help but notice the similarities between The Clone Wars and the structure of an opera.

In both cases you have a grand epic, a story as it were that shall be spoken of in legend for millennia to come.

In both cases there are daring heroes and grand adventures, quests that the heroes must go on.

There are dastardly villains and helpless maidens in distress.

There are wise mentor figures and evil monsters to be slain.

But the difference between this opera and the Clone Wars is both simple and glaring; this opera has a "happy" ending. In this opera that I am watching now, that I have admittedly seen at least a dozen times, the villain is killed at the last second and the glorious hero wins the war, ensuring peace and justice for all in the land, blah blah blah. Need I say more? I never did appreciate comedies as much as I did tragedies. In an operatic comedy there is always a happy ending that neatly wraps up all the details. I found this unrealistic. I always appreciated the intricacies on the duality of truth and lies, and therefore appreciated tragedies more, seeing them as more realistic and reflective on the cold realities of life in this universe.

But the Clone Wars are indeed an opera, they just aren't a comedy. They are the ultimate tragedy.

The stage is the galaxy itself. Its audience is the various peoples who populate the planets of the known cosmos. The music of the orchestra is the explosions and gunshots that ring out across the battlefield. The songs sung by the major characters are replaced with the shrieks of the dying and the gasps of the soldiers choking on the frothy blood that fills their throats as they lay in their own carnage and die by the millions. The heroes of this opera are the Jedi, particularly young Anakin Skywalker. Masters Kenobi and Yoda play the joint role of mentor, while the role of the maiden falls to Senator Amidala. The grand adventures and quests our hero embarks on are the battles to contain the Separatist advance. The evil monster is none other than General Grievous, and the dastardly villain?

Well, most people would say Count Dooku, but Lord Tyranus is at best a supporting character. No, the real villain is none other than yours truly.

I admit that it is slightly unusual to think of oneself in such a context, but if I was to look at myself and my actions within the narrow constructs of the operatic apparatus it would seem that I would fall into the "villain" category.

Not that I really consider myself a villain, not at all. But I don't consider myself a hero either. No, in the end mere labels conjured up by others have little to no overall meaning or value to me. Nevertheless since I insist on this opera analogy I suppose villain will suffice no matter how inadequate it truly is.

This war and the machinations behind it are truly a grand tragedy, worthy of a greater audience if it wasn't for the fact that its full revelation to the public would undo my plans. Oh well, I suppose it will have to suffice that only I can truly enjoy and appreciate it for what it truly is.

Anakin, much like any hero in a tragedy has a fatal flaw, a flaw that shall prove to be his ultimate downfall. Kenobi would say that it was arrogance. The Jedi Council would say that it was his defiance. His wife would say that it is his impulsiveness. And these are truly faults that the boy possesses. But there is one fault above all; a fault that I shall exploit to its fullest that shall turn our young hero into the very thing he now claims to loath the most.

Anakin Skywalker cares too much. Every other fault he possesses stems from this simple truth. He is arrogant because he believes that he can, that he _must_ save everyone that he cares for. His recklessness and defiance are also brought about from this fault.

He cares. He loves. His compassion is his greatest weakness. He commits and dedicates himself to people and to causes and latches on with all of his might. Once he is attached to someone or something it is nearly impossible to get him to let go. And that is precisely what I am counting on. He cares too much, and the loss of those he cares for, or even just the threat of losing those he cares for will be enough to push him over the brink and straight into the abyss.

I saw this for myself after he lost his mother. I remember that day well. I was in a meeting with some advisers when it happened. I could sense it all radiating from him; the abject sorrow, the hopelessness, and the _rage_. Oh yes the rage. Followed quickly by the smell of desperation and abject terror as one by one the Tusken Raiders, men, women, and children were all cut down and slaughtered like the animals that they are.

Ever since then the fear of loss has grown and grown. It has transformed him bit by bit, turning the once glorious hero of this epic War amongst the Stars into the increasingly deranged, ruthless and vile creature that he shall become.

We are entering into the third and final act of the epic tragedy that is the Clone Wars. The threat of loss shall drive Anakin into my camp, and when the grand hero shall lose the one he loves most he will go mad with grief, thereby embracing his inner demon and renouncing the final remnants of what he once was. He shall turn on those he had called brother, and the curtain shall fall with the villain triumphant and the heroes dead.

For in the end you either die a hero or you live long enough to become the villain. The Jedi shall die heroes in their own mind, while Skywalker shall live to become the villain. As I said before such titles have little meaning in real life and are often far more subjective, but in the end it works for the analogy being used.

The fall of Skywalker is pivotal, the central conceit of the show, the support beam upon which the entire structure of this tragedy is built. But there is so much more at stake than the fate of one man.

This tragedy is about the culmination of a vendetta nearly seven thousand years old. Ever since the days when the predecessors of the Sith were cast away from the Jedi and exiled into the wilderness of space we have sought our vengeance. And now we will have our revenge, and vengeance is a dish best served as cold as the vacuum of space itself.

One of the most delectable things to me about operas in general and tragedies in particular is irony. And if there is one constant in the galaxy wide tragedy of the Clone Wars it is irony. The Jedi believe themselves to be fighting against the darkness and defending the light, but this cannot be further from the truth. The Jedi unknowingly serve the very darkness they hate, defending an ideal that has already died and a Republic that has already fallen while inadvertently furthering the goals of the Sith. In the end they shall die, not at the hands of their hated enemies but rather at the hands of those they called friends and allies. They shall fall at Skywalker's blade or be gunned down by their clone comrades, never fully knowing or understanding why, just that they have been deceived.

Yes, irony truly is the best part of any good tragedy.

The opera comes to an end as it inevitably must. The curtains fall, and the story comes to a close. For those on the stage the characters shall live happily ever after.

We ourselves are drawing towards the end. Soon the curtain shall fall on the Jedi and the Republic. Skywalker will fall and fulfill his destiny. The plot shall be resolved. But that is really not the end now that I give it further thought, not by a long shot. I always wondered what happened after happily ever after, or miserably ever after in the case of tragedies. In the case of the tragedy of Anakin Skywalker and the Clone Wars we are sure to find out.

After all, every ending is nothing more than just another beginning. The end of the war shall bring about a new beginning, a new story just waiting to be told. This shall be a story that I myself will mold and write, a story that shall have no heroes and no end, only me.

The tragedy of Anakin Skywalker is coming to a climax and an end.

The story of Palpatine however is just beginning.

I look forward to seeing how it plays out.


	13. For the Duration

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_"The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us. I've just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away."_-Grand Moff Tarkin

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"We're live in five, four, three, two, one…" The technician gives the signal and all goes quiet throughout the throne room. The light on the camera droid turns red, indicating that we are live. All eyes are turned to the throne and the individual sitting in it. Let's get this formality over with.

"My loyal subjects, it has been quite some time since last I spoke to you, and I do apologize for such a prolonged absence from the public light, but unfortunately recent events have made my time increasingly scarce. I am of course referring to the perfidious disease of Separatism that regrettably did not die with the end of the Clone Wars nearly two decades ago.

This new Separatist threat, branding itself the Rebel Alliance has struck fear and discord throughout the Outer Rim, threatening anarchy and destroying the peace and order that so many millions of Imperial troopers fought and died for in the war and since then.

We stand today on the cusp of yet another crisis. It is my sad duty to inform you my beloved people that the Empire is at war, and indeed has been for nearly two years now. At first I had hoped, just as many of you had hoped that these Rebels were at worst a minor nuisance, an insignificant gang of brigands and anarchists that could be easily quelled. But these rebels are a nefarious group of shrewd and intelligent operatives that have managed to evade Imperial justice despite the commendable efforts of our men in uniform.

I love this Empire. I love every world that comprises it and every law abiding citizen that calls it their home. I would gladly die for any of you in the name of preserving this Empire and the peace that it has provided us. Many believe as I believe, accepting our glorious New Order and the security that it has provided. We look to the bright future ahead of us, a future free of terrible enemies or infighting.

But there is a small minority of beings who wish to see a return to the old ways, a group who would return us to a time of disunity, destruction, and chaos. These rebels would gladly see the entire galaxy returned to the violence and indecision of the Clone Wars. They care little for the sacrifices that citizens and soldiers have made for the peace and justice that the Empire represents, but would rather see every one of us dragged down into the infernal fires of desolation and discord.

These radicals would have us go backwards when we must go forwards. Why? Because they fear the future and what it has to offer. They would rather cling to the past and all of its deficiencies rather than step forward into the light alongside the rest of us.

Deep within the depths of my soul I know that many of these Rebels mean well, but in the end their idealism has blinded them to reality. They claim that they wish to restore the Republic, but we all see now that the Republic was beyond saving in its last years. We had to start over, there was no choice.

It hurts me terribly to see so many promising individuals fall off of the path of righteousness and into the crevices of vice and crime, but it hurts me even more to hear what they have to say.

The vicious propaganda the use to decry the Empire and my rule is as shocking as it is horrific. They call me a tyrant, a destroyer of worlds. They call me the butcher of liberty and killer of democracy. They say that I am twisted, that I am _evil_.

To hear such slanderous accusations is much like a sledgehammer to my heart. Did I not dedicate my entire life to public service? Did I not fight against the vicious autocrat Count Dooku and his Confederacy of Separatists during the Clone Wars? Did I not work night and day to painstakingly create the new society that we all enjoy?

Are we not better off than we were before the war? Before this rebellion came into being did we not live in a society free of war and chaos? Did we not reap the fruits and bounties that peace and security provides?

But it would seem that the rebels conveniently forget these truths, for in the end they do not suit their insurrectionist rhetoric.

I have said it before, and I will say it again; I love democracy. I love it with every fiber of my being. But the acts of the rebellion have made it sadly necessary to take certain precautions to ensure this Empire's very survival.

I do not mean to alarm you my fair subjects but we face a crisis as dire as the one we faced nearly twenty years ago at the hands of the Separatists. I will not see us return to that time of bloodshed and horror. But the spread of the rebellion to numerous planets has forced my hand.

It has come to my attention that not even the upper echelons of the Imperial government are free from this disease. Imperial Intelligence has discovered that many members of the Imperial Senate have Rebel sympathies. In some cases, certain Senators have been confirmed as actual members of the Rebel Alliance itself.

The most prominent of these traitors has been discovered to be none other than Senator Leia Organa of Alderaan, who we have determined to be a senior member of the Alliance's command structure. Rest assured that she and several of her co-conspirators have been apprehended and shall face justice for their crimes against the Empire, but this leaves me in a terrible position.

For so many years the Senate was the central thriving organ of our government, a forum of the people that gave our government life. But this former house of virtue has now become a den of thieves, a veritable nest of vipers that would stab us all in the back when we least suspected it at the worst possible moment.

Not every Senator is sympathetic to the Rebels. Many indeed have proven their loyalty and devotion to the Empire by exposing their treacherous colleagues. But I am afraid that the Senate has become an unstable element in a critical situation.

In the past I had attempted to curtail the more egregious abuses of authority that the Senate had committed in the past, but it seems that my efforts have been in vain. We have little to no way of detecting who is and who is not a Rebel. Any member of the Senate could secretly be a Rebel supporter, and the threat of war that we now face is too severe to allow such questionable individuals have power in the government. The Senate, as much as it pains me to admit it is no longer capable of helping me to govern the state, especially in a time of war when it's members have proven themselves to be so unreliable.

Therefore it is with much regret and a heavy heart that I announce the immediate dissolution of the Imperial Senate for the duration of this emergency. All Senators, representatives and political aides are hereby stripped of their diplomatic immunity, security codes and political status as members of the government.

In order to ensure a smooth transition of power and protect the rule of law the regional governors shall now be given direct control over their territories.

To ensure the swift nullification of this threat a state of martial law is declared on all planets known to have significant rebel activity. On these planets where marshal law is declared all local government is hereby temporarily disbanded and is to be replaced with Imperial friendly administrations. All law enforcement units on said planets shall be Imperialized or disbanded effective immediately. A curfew of twenty two hundred hours is hereby placed in effect on these planets and any citizen caught outdoors during curfew without proper paperwork shall be detained indefinitely.

I hereby give the military establishment, specifically Supreme Commander Lord Vader a free hand to do whatever is necessary to put down this unlawful revolt against the legitimate legal authorities.

Rest assured that further rebellion shall not be tolerated and shall be dealt with swiftly. In the future any and all planetary governments suspected of secessionist political activity or leanings shall be immediately deposed and replaced with an Imperial Governor for the duration of this crisis.

Any and all citizens found in the act of rebellion shall henceforth be detained indefinitely without right to legal counsel.

Rest assured that these amendments are merely temporary, and that as soon as the Rebellion is put down the Senate shall be reconvened with entirely new Senators, Senators free of the corruption and treason that had taken hold of the old Senate.

I understand that many will see these actions as drastic, some would even say harsh, but we live in desperate times, and certain liberties must be sacrificed in the short term in order to ensure long term peace.

To the leaders of this Rebellion I say this; do not commit yourselves to this violent path. Many of your leaders had once been the most virulent peace advocates during the Clone Wars, and now you seek to utilize war to achieve your goals? Are you so hypocritical, so power hungry, so short sighted, that you would doom the galaxy to even more suffering?

I like to think that I am a kind and gentle man, but you Rebels have forced my hand to commit drastic measures. Know that even I have limits to my patience, and know that I will do everything in my power to see this rebellion put down.

Make no mistake my friends, The Alliance to Restore the Republic will stop at nothing until they have achieved, and I quote directly from their so-called "Declaration of Rebellion", "your destruction and the destruction of the Galactic Empire."

They have threatened not only my person directly but the well being of every citizen of the Empire. This rebellion seeks to eradicate twenty years of progress and peace and return us to the barbarity of the Clone Wars and I will not let that happen.

I ask you, as loyal subjects of the Empire to once again heed the call of your legitimate rulers and sacrifice for the greater good. I know that the coming months and years shall be difficult, and I know that you have all sacrificed greatly in the past, but I am calling on you once again for support in the future.

The time for words and negotiations is sadly past. The time for force is sadly upon us. But if there is any way to lessen the coming bloodshed I shall say this now.

Members of the rebellion, I beseech you. I have only suspended the Senate and certain civil liberties because of your actions. Look into your hearts and realize that you are wrong. Do not drag the galaxy into another costly war. Let us return to the spirit of cooperation that made this Empire so great.

Please see reason. Please give up this foolish crusade so that we may all return to normality.

My loyal subjects, today we stand on the precipice of a new future. Only together in solidarity can we defeat this implacable enemy of ours.

Some of you are surely afraid of the escalating conflict, as well you should be. But rest assured that the Galactic Empire in its righteous might shall win through to absolute victory.

We shall be victorious on every front and in every system, from the cold vacuum of space to the surface of every world. From the Core to the Outer Rim this disease shall be expunged from the Body Politic and the galaxy itself. Our triumph is preordained, for we have the forces of justice and history on our side.

We will do whatever we must to secure our hard won stability, and we will be triumphant.

You have my promise as you Emperor that this Rebellion will be completely and utterly eradicated. Nothing short of the gaping jaws of Chaos itself will deter me from achieving this goal. This I swear."


	14. When Life gives you Lemons

**In which old Sidious draws the wrong conclusions because, hey, evil can't understand good sometimes. Please leave a Review!**

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The Force works in mysterious ways.

I always detested that saying. The Force works in mysterious ways, we must trust in the will of the Force, etc. etc.

Such sayings are a testament to ignorance and an unwillingness or inability to seek out and discern the truth. It is all Jedi dogma, and in the end have I myself not shown that the teachings of the Jedi are false, for they are dead and the Sith still live.

But it seems that even the Sith were not entirely free of this way of thinking. Even old Plagueis himself, being a mystic could not help but wax philosophically on the ineffable path that the Force sought to take.

As I mentioned before I always hated such ideology. Whereas the Jedi claim that the Force is their ally the Sith know that the Force is their servant. That is one of the fundamental differences in our ideologies. It is the goal of the Sith to dominate the Force and make it their tool. We are not the puppets of some mystic energy, rather it is OUR puppet. The Force should no longer have any will free of its Master, nominally me. It is the goal of every Sith Lord past and present to become the masters of their own destiny, rather than destiny being the masters of us. I have succeeded in that endeavor. The Force is my unquestioning servant. If I were to tell it to jump the only thing that it should ask me is how high? It has no free will, no secret plans, no thoughts of rebellion, and no compunction to disobey me. I am the master and it is my obedient servant for now and forever.

At least, that is what I had thought.

The Death Star has been destroyed. My ultimate weapon of fear, my instrument of terror, the very extension of my will, gone, blown to smithereens in orbit of Yavin 4 by a single starfighter. The loss of such an investment would have been somewhat more acceptable if it had been destroyed by a fleet of battlecruisers (how a fleet could have accomplished such a thing I have no idea) but the very fact that it was a single rebel starfighter that sent an entire moon sized battlestation straight to Chaos is simply unacceptable.

It has been two weeks since then and my mood has not improved in the slightest. I remember when I first received the news. I had been expecting a report from Tarkin on the station's inevitable triumph, but what do I get? Tarkin dead, a multi trillion credit battlestation destroyed, and the rebels victorious. And WHY? Because one little, insignificant, tiny, inconsequential starfighter was able to pull off the luckiest shot in the entire galaxy and take advantage of the most mind numbingly idiotic design flaw ever conceived of in the history of, well, everything. If only Tarkin was still alive so I could torture him into insanity for his failure. I mean, Force forbid one of my Governors should actually _govern _and do his job properly. Oh well, I suppose I'll have to settle for less.

Bevel Lemelisk, the designer of the Death Star has already suffered terribly for this inexcusable blunder of creating an exhaust port large enough for an explosive device to travel down that leads straight to the highly volatile main reactor. Usually the sound of screaming and pleas for mercy alleviates my bad moods, but as Lemelisk was being eaten alive by ravenous piranha beetles I found myself strangely empty.

The torture of failed minions would not satisfy me in this event. I wanted, no, needed to know the name of the Rebel that destroyed the Death Star. Vader claimed that the Force was with him. I am not surprised. No individual without a connection to the Force could possibly make such a shot. I had to know.

And now I do know. And the knowledge brought to me has shaken me to the core.

Luke Skywalker.

It can't be.

Luke Skywalker.

It isn't possible

Luke Skywalker.

But it is.

I have been deceived.

How can this be?

I had thought that I had uncovered the Force's secrets. I thought I knew everything that was to be known. But to have such a monumental secret so successfully hidden from me by the Force and by the allies of the Light boggles the mind.

I could be undone by this.

This plot, whatever this is has the hands of Kenobi and Yoda all over it. They are behind this, whatever it is. Somehow, someway, Padme lived long enough to give birth to a son.

Luke Skywalker.

There are no other alternatives. Skywalker is not exactly a common last name, and even if it were I know better. Now that the masquerade is over the Force practically screams with joy, as if taunting me. This boy is the son of Skywalker.

The son of Skywalker, nearly as strong in the Force as his father before him. But this boy seems untrained. He seems to have no real skill with the Force. He doesn't seem to have firm control over his power.

Kenobi and Yoda did not train him. Odd.

If they did not train him, then what was their plan? What schemes did they devise in their exile? What plot have they come up with?

I suppose I'll never know. Kenobi is finally dead. The whereabouts of Yoda are still unknown. Is it possible that Yoda will finally return from exile and join the Rebels? It is possible. Anything is possible at this juncture. But I have not sensed his return. He is still out there, that I know. The old troll just won't die, but wherever he is it is in a place that has permanently hidden him from my senses.

Does the boy even know of Yoda? Will Yoda seek the boy out and train him? There are too many questions being asked here and not enough answers. I am left groping about in the dark, unknowing of the truth. I hate being left in such a weakened state.

It seems that even in death Padme and the Jedi still reach out from the grave to hinder my progress. I should have been more careful. During her funeral I should have checked Amidala's corpse for signs of the child. I should have hunted down Kenobi and Yoda and killed them when I had the chance. But no, no I was basking in the glory of my achievement. I wanted Yoda and Kenobi to live to witness their complete failure and the triumph of the Sith. As for checking Amidala more thoroughly, that was just a case of incompetence. I was euphoric, too pleased with my triumph to take a closer look. She appeared pregnant in death, and so I believed her child to have died with her.

If Plagueis still lived he would surely have berated me for such an obvious failure. Never make conclusions based on first impressions only.

I've underestimated my enemies and now matters are worse. It is as if the Force itself is finally paying me back for the years of servitude I have made it to endure.

The victory of the Rebels at Yavin has only galvanized their movement. Reports of insurrection are flooding in from across the Mid and Outer Rims. The Rebels have been emboldened, and civilians by the millions are starting to rebel en masse.

The destruction of Alderaan, meant to subdue the resistance has only fanned the flames of insurrection and revolt. Intelligence reports confirm that even otherwise loyal officers of my own Navy are beginning to defect. How is this possible? How could everything start to come apart like this?

In the past the use of violence or the mere threat of it was enough to silence any resistance. But it seems that the opposite has taken place. With Alderaan and its entire populace destroyed it seems that instead of cowering in fear as they normally would certain segments of the population are revolting as if they had nothing to lose.

The Tarkin Doctrine of fear through force had worked so well in the past, so why isn't it working now?

I don't know why, but Skywalker is the root of the problem. He has given these rebels false hope, false hope that emboldens them and makes my job all that harder.

But the biggest question of all is, does Vader know the truth?

At the very least he has his suspicions. But he won't tell me, not yet at least.

Vader has his own agenda, he always has. I wouldn't expect any less of him. After that debacle with Starkiller it has become evident that Vader has sought to overthrow me. Surely, if Vader knows the truth of the matter he shall seek out his son as a potential apprentice. It is what I would do in his place. After all, the boy is definitely strong with the Force.

It's ironic. Technically speaking Vader and I are on the same side, but the realities of the Sith make things slightly more difficult. Even when there are only Two the Sith still conspire against one another, circling each other, dancing a deadly dance of subterfuge and lies.

We will both keep our cards close to our chests. I will not reveal what I know and he will not reveal what he knows until it becomes absolutely necessary. Such is the way of the Sith, and for now I shall tolerate this little game of deception.

But this isn't the end. It is only the beginning. The only reason the people are rebelling is because the symbol of Imperial might, the Death Star, was destroyed. Perhaps a new one, one free of the idiotic design flaws of before shall deter them. Yes, a truly indestructible weapon such as that would be truly impossible for them to counter.

But what would really condemn the rebellion to die of despair would be if their beloved hero of Yavin, the Luke Skywalker, were to join me.

Yes, I see it all now, clear as day. This could be a great opportunity for me. The Death Star may have been destroyed, but I have uncovered someone strong in the Force, someone likely untainted by the dogma of the Jedi.

The allure of power is great, and I will draw this young Skywalker into my sphere of influence. This boy will fall just as his father before him.

Luke Skywalker will become my new apprentice, young, strong, and unhindered by the cybernetics that have consumed his father whole.

Vader has served me well over the years, but he is old and increasingly feeble. A shame I suppose, but he had to be replaced sooner or later. After all, have I not proven myself worthy of having the best, especially when it comes to apprentices?

I have grown careless in the last few years, but I see where I went wrong. I must be even more ruthless to my enemies if my reign is to endure. This Skywalker shall become the lynchpin around which this pathetic alliance is built. He has become their hero, their symbol of hope for the future of their cause. Without him they shall wither and die. And that is precisely what shall happen. Someday Skywalker shall come before me. He will fall to the Darkside, just as Anakin Skywalker did in the past. The rebellion will die, its members disillusioned and disheartened by the loss of their beloved hero.

Skywalker shall become my enforcer just as Vader before him, and my rule over the galaxy shall be secure. I see it all now, and it is good.

This has been a severe setback, but my path forward is clear. I must put aside all doubts and all fears and keep moving forward. I will win this war. There are no alternatives.

Everything will go according to plan.


	15. From a Certain Point of View

**In which we learn that Obi-Wan isn't the only one who can use that line to justify his actions. Yes the basic premise of this chapter was shamelessly stolen from Voldemort in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone. Please leave a Review!**

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The Jedi liked to believe that we live in a universe that possesses some form of order and reason, a divine plan if you will. They liked to believe that life on both an individual and galactic scale has some innate value or worth, and that there is a purpose for all of us in this vast place we call the cosmos.

They couldn't have been more wrong even if they tried.

Nothing is truly sacred.

Nothing is fixed or determined.

There are no constants in this universe.

There is no right.

There is no wrong.

There is no good.

There is no evil.

There is only power, and those with the iron will to obtain it for themselves.

Nothing else matters, for in the end there is nothing else.

Why do I believe this?

Simple, everything in the universe depends on a certain point of view.

To certain individuals a man could be a great crusader or a merciless invader. It all depends on your point of view.

A king can be seen as a just ruler or a tyrant. It all depends on your point of view.

What is right to some is wrong to others and what is wrong to some is right to others. It all depends on your point of view.

Good is a point of view as well. The Jedi thought that they were good. The Sith thought they themselves were good. These two groups both believed the other to be evil. Which side an individual determines these two groups to be on can come to depend on your point of view. Both sides cannot both be good simultaneously, being the polar opposites that they are. And both cannot be evil simultaneously, again, being polar opposites. Since the two are so radically opposed to the other ideologically many would think that one group must therefore be good and the other must be evil.

But what precisely is the definition of good? And what is the definition of evil.

It differs from person to person depending on their point of view. The definition of good or evil by one individual is based on their own personal values and sense of ethics.

Values and ethics themselves are a point of view. What is moral to some is immoral to others.

For instance, certain cultures see it as a perfectly reasonable thing to do to commit cannibalism. Others are repulsed by such actions and consider it immoral. In the end it depends on your personal point of view. Then you can look at me. I lied, stole, committed treason, and committed genocide in order to achieve absolute power over this galaxy. From a certain point of view what I did was unspeakably heinous and vile. From my point of view I did what was necessary to achieve the authority that was my right.

But therein lies the fundamental problem, what is right and what is wrong? These are rather broad terms, and it seems that there is no real way to form a definitive consensus on the issue because of such diverse and oftentimes contradictory evidence. After all, either something is or it is not. Despite what some believe if this system of right and wrong actually existed surely there would be little room for interpretation.

I grappled with this issue and the complex questions it raised, and around the age of sixteen I came to the conclusion that there is nothing.

There is no good or evil, there is no right or wrong. There are no constants or absolutes, moral or otherwise, except for power.

The Jedi used to like to speak about points of view to indicate that the universe and its problems are more complex than we would think at first.

But I have discovered a new way of looking at this.

There is no good and there is no evil, for it is impossible for us to determine precisely what action is benevolent and malevolent since there is such a diverse and contradictory idea of precisely what qualifies as an act off good or evil.

From a certain point of view murder can be seen as a justified action or an unforgivable crime. It cannot be both, and because there is enough wiggle room to leave things open to interpretation in my mind it is neither.

There are no rules that govern this life. All of creation is lawless, a blank slate upon which the living scrawl out a meager code of morality that is nothing more than a convoluted and ultimately pathetic attempt to create some emotional and physical stability in a morally directionless world.

There is no purpose in this life except for that which we give it. Many cannot live with such a thought. The idea that life in and of itself is meaningless throws them into the depths of despair and occasionally death. They cannot handle the thought that on a cosmic scale their lives and all that they have ever valued or struggled for was ultimately meaningless.

I find it quite liberating though. If there are no cosmic rules of right and wrong then I cannot possibly be cowed into submitting myself to them. To me it is a blank check that allows me to do whatever I wish, because frankly put there are no consequences.

A person could rampage, murder and pillage to his heart's content. He could do whatever he wished whenever he wished simply because he could if he had the power to do it. And if someone called him out on his actions he could easily say, "from my point of view I am doing the right thing."

What a refreshing idea. But despite differing points of view and the resulting question on ethics (or lack thereof in my opinion) I have found there to be one universal constant, one ecumenical system of systems that shapes life, the universe, and everything. And that is power.

Power allows you to do whatever you wish, whenever you wish without fear of consequence. The only thing in this life that could possibly stop you from doing what you want is not conscience or some sense of goodness, but rather it is by people or things which possess more power than you do.

Perhaps that is one of the reasons why I became so fixated with attaining absolute power, because in the end power allows you to make your mark on the universe and fulfill the reality of life, a reality that terrifies many but invigorates a few.

The reality that, because so many objects and ideas are open to such radical interpretation and reinterpretation, it is therefore logical to conclude that these extremes do not exist.

The thinking behind it is rather circular and paradoxical, but it is fundamentally impossible for something to be both good and evil simultaneously. But because practically anything and everything can be interpreted as both it means that the absolutes of good and evil do not exist.

These things simply are.

The Sith simply are.

The Jedi simply are, or rather _were_.

So why destroy them? If I myself did not think them evil, as some Sith in the past did, why did I bother to so thoroughly eradicate them?

The answer is relatively straight forward: they stood between me and power, and so they had to go.

Power is all that matters in this universe, ethical codes and moral standings mean nothing compared to power for power warps and distorts these ethics, therefore revealing them to be false.

I began to realize these truths when I was young. I could get away with stealing from the other children, lying, and even get away with murder because my family possessed enough power for me to get away with it. If there was such a thing as universal justice as the Jedi claimed there was surely I would have paid for these petty crimes one way or the other. But I didn't. I got away with it and I continued to get away with it. I got away with murder and warmongering. I've gotten off free without any real consequences for my actions, and in the end that proves that there is no justice and that there is no such thing as anything associated with justice. There is no innate good and evil, no universal right or wrong, no moral certainties. There is only us and what we make of our time in this dark place we call the universe, us and what we create and conceive to be.

Nevertheless it amuses me to no end to think of these artificial creations and the weak minded creatures that developed them.

In the end these notions of good and evil are nothing more than another set of chains. These self created chains of moral thought bind the vast majority of the people both living and dead. These chains limit them and blind them, forcing them to remain on a straight and narrow path of righteousness that does not even exist. They are the slaves of an imaginary master, a master they call morality. Through strength, _my_ strength the chains that attempted to hold me down were broken. The Force freed me, and because I am free of these chains I am justified in doing as I please.

I know better than the countless trillions that populate this galaxy, I know that nothing but power is certain in this life, because nothing else in this life is absolute. Either an object or person is or it is not. And because practically everything is open to interpretation that means that everything means nothing.

This Empire has committed what many would call atrocities. Many of these "crimes" have been covered up, and those that have been released to the general public are dismissed with a sigh of, "if only the Emperor knew."

If only they knew. If only they knew that I knew, and that not only did I know but frankly I did not care. What would they have to say to that I wonder? Would they call me a monster and denounce me for the demon that I supposedly am? Perhaps, but it doesn't really matter.

You see, I'm not really a monster, not really. I'm simply ahead of everyone else. I am sentientkind uninhibited, liberated from the chains of preconceived notions on benevolence and malevolence that leave so many lying in the dirt of mediocrity.

There is no hidden cosmic plan; there is only us, us and the tools with which we forge this universe. And because there are no universal laws on right and wrong I am therefore justified in doing whatever pleases me, and what pleases me is the pursuit and acquisition of greater power.

I have shed all of the artificial notions that modern civilized society has created and imposed on the populace and embraced the truth and the inner beast that, since the day of my birth has raged within the deep recesses of not only my mind, but the minds of all living things.

Whether or not what I hold to be true is actually correct could be open to interpretation itself. Perhaps I am wrong, and there is some universal moral truth. Who knows? Personally though I sincerely doubt it.

I suppose, in the final analysis it all depends on a certain point of view.


	16. Wrath

**Thanks to Loteva's suggestion I have decided to create a small story arc chronicling the Seven Deadly Sins from Palpatine's view on the subject. Rest assured to Dark Kronus and Ashla that I will be getting around to their suggestions inevitably. The plan is basically to keep on writing for this story until I run out of ideas, and thanks to your kind comments that won't be happening for a very long while. Please Leave a Review!**

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Throughout life my wrath has been my one constant companion, my only friend. It has been my greatest ally and my greatest tool in the culmination of my plans. From my earliest memory to the present I have lived a life filled with contempt. Everything and everyone offended me on some level. Every person was worthy only of derision, every idea was openly ridiculed, and every object was scorned.

For the Sith rage is a fountain of life, giving will and power to those who drink from the font.

Wrath provides its adherents with clarity and understanding. Such rage as that which I have experienced provides oneself with a purpose and a goal in life. In a twisted sort of way rage has allowed me the opportunity to live a life of meaning and value because it has presented to me something worth accomplishing. Wrath is a motivator, giving a reason to fuel an unending drive within myself to achieve all that I can achieve out of spite for creation itself.

Wrath is the pillar of the iron will of the Sith, the support beam upon which the very structure of our entire Order is founded and given strength.

But wrath isn't merely unrestricted hatred. That is a certain component to it, but it is not the be all and end all of the situation. From a certain point of view the wrath of the Sith is a sort of justice.

Time and time again in the ancient past the Sith were defeated in combat by the Jedi and practically destroyed. Our empires fragmented and collapsed and our Order was persecuted. Again and again the cycle of history would repeat itself. The Jedi were always there, denying the Sith their natural place as the supreme power over the known worlds. The Jedi defeated us repeatedly, killing our best warriors and making a mockery of the Darkside. The Jedi themselves were a mockery of the Sith, the polar opposite of all that we were and the stumbling block that stubbornly tripped us on our path to power. Confrontation was inevitable. Everywhere we went seeking conquest and power the Jedi were there to oppose us. Again and again we were undermined and made fools of. Every defeat fueled our rage. Our desire for revenge shaped us and drove us onwards out of contempt for the Jedi.

Naturally we wanted justice for such slights upon us. Many would consider the Sith brand of justice to be nothing more than petty vengeance, but at this point in the narrative of galactic history justice and revenge were one and the same.

The lives of many a Dark Lord became fixated on the Jedi and their downfall. The actions of many a Sith became less and less about accumulating power and more about defying the Jedi simply out of spite.

This is the double edged sword of wrath. It is one of our greatest allies, subordinate only to the power of the Darkside, but it is also our greatest weakness.

History is overflowing with examples of how our wrath has been our downfall. Countless battles, entire wars, indeed whole empires and generations of Sith have been lost because we allowed our wrath to consume us and blind us. Our rage and hatred would consume us whole, leading to infighting and inevitable disintegration. In the aftermath of every war the Jedi would be satisfied with their victory, believing that their teachings had been vindicated yet again because hatred had played a significant role in the downfall of their enemy. I possess a different outlook on history.

I have given much thought to the dichotomy of wrath. There is the burning rage of the Sith of yesteryear, the all-encompassing passion that oftentimes drives men mad and reduces them to snarling, bestial creatures. Such hatred consumes men whole, blinding them and weakening them. In the pitched heat of combat, a man consumed by the fires of rage will not think properly. He will hack, sever and stab his way through the killing fields, too focused on his hatred to devise a strategy or plan of victory or survival. They see red and only red, and as a result they make foolish and ultimately costly decisions.

Such men are easily dealt with by any person possessing a clear mind and the knowledge of their enemies' weakness. And that is why the Jedi triumphed in the past.

But my wrath is different. The wrath called upon by the Order of Bane is as cold as the void itself. It is still hatred. It is still a borderline obsessive desire for revenge. It is still a blood lust that can never be fully quenched. But the key difference between these two sources of rage is that my wrath can easily be regulated. Where the Sith of the past were controlled by their emotions the Sith of the present are in control.

We still call upon our hatred and rage to fuel our power and connection to the Darkside, but we do not allow our blood lust to completely overwhelm our senses.

In order to utilize wrath to its full potential one must be in complete control of his or her faculties. The wrath called upon by any successful Sith must be intelligent and refined while simultaneously being capable of tremendous amounts of vindictiveness and disdain. It is a difficult tightrope to walk. One false move could see you fall over the precipice, but it is not an impossible task to accomplish.

In everything I do, contempt plays a large role. For instance, in politics my advisers will bring proposals and legislation for my approval by the cruiser load. How do I decide which policy is the right policy for my Empire to pursue? Simple, the policy that is the right one belongs to the adviser least deserving of my utter contempt. They are all contemptible in one way or the other, but as far as Imperial politics are concerned no one actually _likes_ anyone else and it is just a matter of degree of contempt.

Like. It's a rather funny word now that I think about it. I've used it many times in the past but I don't think I've ever fully understood the word or the feeling associated with it for that matter. The Jedi say that Wrath, regardless of which kind is equally blinding to emotions related to the Lightside. I suppose I don't understand such emotions, and I don't really care to. Frankly I only care to know only that which is important, and the Sith made it quite obvious that such emotions are weak and thus not worthy of understanding.

Though if I am to be perfectly honest with myself I do not think I have ever truly liked anything. I am capable of enjoying things sometimes, but is enjoying something the same as liking it? No, I think not. You can still enjoy something but still find it contemptible. It is just a matter of mental separation I suppose. In my weaker moments when I was simply an apprentice at the beginning of his journey into the darkness I had wondered at times what it was like to truly like something, or someone for that matter.

And, as much as I absolutely hate to admit this to myself, I would wonder if the Jedi had been _right_. Has wrath blinded me as they claimed it would? Does all consuming hatred for everything in existence truly lead to one living a diminished, lesser existence?

Naturally I shook off such naïve thoughts. The universe and everything therein is a cutthroat race of survival and jockeying for positions of power. Rage is the emotion that drives a person to seek their place in the universe. There is no other way. To believe anything else is ultimately foolish.

And I am no fool.


	17. Lust

**This chapter has nothing explicit or graphic in it. Nevertheless sex in general will be spoken about. Any and all women, while fictional characters shall nevertheless be 18 years or older. Certain situations may arise in this chapter that may come off as being sexist towards women or just creepy in general. Please keep in mind that this is the bad guy talking. These are not my personal views on women, but rather Palpatine's. So don't accuse me of objectifying women or being insensitive towards them in the comments section. With that said let's get going. I've never done anything like this before so please be gentle if it turns out to be wretched. Please Leave a Review!**

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Dawn breaks over Coruscant as the first rays of sunlight begin to creep up and over the horizon to shine on the city that never sleeps. Everywhere on the city's surface the rays of the sun bring warmth and light as night leads to day. Well, almost everywhere that is. There is one location in all of Imperial City where the light always seems weaker, even when there is not a cloud in the sky on a warm summer's day.

The Imperial Palace looms over the cityscape casting a pall on the otherwise bright and shining metropolis. It is a blight upon the landscape, but more so than that it is a symbol. It is a temple to darkness devoted to the sins of men, a monolithic symbol of the power that rules this galaxy that reaches up into the heavens as if to pluck the very stars from the sky.

In this den of iniquity what little light there is to be seen almost appears to come off as an unwanted intruder, an undesirable presence that appears to try and avoid being detected by being as dim and weak as possible.

In the very heart of this dark fortress there is a room, a room that could come to be seen by some as lust incarnate. It is a lavish room appointed with art, furniture and other items that serve the purpose of being extravagantly opulent while simultaneously avoiding the trappings of gaudiness.

The room is dominated by a bed large enough for at least twenty people to sleep in, but at the moment it only has one occupant. In the dim light her luxurious red hair is spread out over the pillow. Her voluptuous frame is hidden beneath the blankets of the bed which seem to hug her body in a close embrace, and her emerald eyes are closed in slumber. A small smile is fixed to her lips, satisfied at a job well done.

There is but one other person in the room. He is much older than she is. Frankly he is old enough to be her grandfather. But this man is not like other old men, and this is not a room that many would be familiar with. Sickly ochre eyes glow in the dim light like lanterns as they peer out the window at the early morning traffic. His skin is pale and pasty, melted and deformed by events which occurred long ago. Frankly he possesses a face that not even a mother could love. He is repellent, an abomination. What woman would ever want him?

Apparently many it seems. For though he is physically repulsive, deep down inside beneath the layers he is… actually even more disgusting mentally than he is physically. But it would seem that power is indeed a great aphrodisiac, for scores of women have thrown themselves at him willingly in the vain hopes of either sharing or simply being in the presence of such great power.

For this is no ordinary old man. This man is the Emperor, and this bedroom is the Emperor's Chambers.

There appears upon the Emperor's face a small smirk that happens to coincide with a rather amusing thought. It seems ironic in a way, for the primary purpose of a room such as this is sleep. However it seems that very little to no sleeping occurred last night, or any night for that matter. For one as powerful in the Force as he is sleep is no longer necessary. And so the room serves _other_ purposes.

"I've still got it." The Emperor whispers to himself. He turns away from the window and peers over at the sleeping form. Mara always was so _willing_ to please in every way. She hasn't been asleep very long, their little rendezvous only came to an end about half an hour ago. The Emperor finds it all mildly amusing. She has been trained as an assassin capable of surviving for months at a time in the most hostile and stressing environments in the entire galaxy, and yet a single night of passion is enough to exhaust her.

"I've still got it." The Emperor repeats to himself, this time with a chuckle. He begins to think to himself, as he is prone to do.

She isn't the only woman willing to please me. I possess quite a large harem of mistresses that serve their purpose well in a pinch, but in the end sex is all that most of them are good for. To be honest I couldn't be bothered to even learn most of their names. A few women though are indeed more interesting than others, Mara for instance. Roganda Ismaren and Ysanne Isard as well.

Poor, foolish Ysanne, so willing and able to do anything to please me. She is a capable Intelligence Director and a more than adequate lover, but her petty little jealousies can be quite annoying when they aren't amusing. She has grown quite possessive of me in recent years, one could say obsessive even. How amusing. But I do get tired of these women complaining in that deferential and ultimately pathetic way of theirs about how the good Madame Director is out to get them. When I bring a woman to my chambers I expect to have a good time and not have to deal with high pitched whining from some glorified whore.

It is what it is I suppose, and there is little that even I can do to stop it. It seems that lust plays quite the influential role at the Imperial Court. It always has. The rivalry between Mara and Ysanne alone is practically the stuff of legend at Court. Women yearn to be with me just so they can, in their own demented dreams possibly win the chance to share in the power of the monarch. Imagine the pride and the authority that could potentially be granted to them if they were to bear the heir to the throne? Many a woman has entertained such pathetic ideas of ascending to the top and potentially being made Empress. Let them entertain such delusions. It really is all that they are capable of.

But lust isn't merely about sex. Sex plays a role of course. Women such as these are more than willing to throw away what dignity they have in order to climb the ladder and attain more power for themselves. How else did that incompetent fool Daala manage to get a promotion to Captain and then Admiral? That's right, she let Slick Willy Tarkin have his way with her. Then again how else are women supposed to get a promotion in the Empire when they technically aren't allowed to even serve in the military in the first place?

It matters little to me. Lust is the glue that holds this Empire together. Lust is the reason that this Empire was even founded. For in the end what is lust? It is simply a strong desire to have something. That something is usually thought of as being Carnal in nature, but lust comes in more than one form.

One can lust after power and authority just as much as they can lust after the flesh. In many ways one could say that power is like a woman. The Sith covet power, we ruminate about it and center our entire lives around it, hoping and praying to one day have it for ourselves. We court power, hoping that she will respond to our entreaties and allow us to take her as our own. The similarities are indeed fascinating. In this endeavor I have succeeded tremendously. The power that I have long since sought is mine and mine alone, and she has proven to be most faithful and pleasing to me, even more so than the various women I surround myself with. I am quite possessive of this lady I call power, perhaps for the same reasons why Ysanne is possessive of me.

It is funny now that I think of it. Ysanne is different from all of the others. The nameless masses of concubines that come and go from my chambers see me as an opportunity to achieve greater power for themselves. They do not care for me. I am nothing more than job security for them. Mara respects and admires me much like any pet admires its master, but I don't think that she loves me. Ysanne does love me. Or at least I think she does. She thinks that she does at the very least. I'm unfamiliar with the emotion and am thus mildly confused with the process. But is this emotion that she claims to possess so passionately for me love? It is obsessive to be sure. She is fixated on me and me alone with thoughts of no other. She cares for my well being, or at least she thinks that she does. But is it love? I don't really know, and frankly I don't care. Love matters not to me or to anyone here in the Capital. Lust suffices.

What matters to me is enjoying the power that is my birthright. These women are a status symbol. They are everything that the male mind desires in a female. They are indeed stunning creatures, breathtaking really. But if one of them was to die today I doubt I would give it a second thought, or a first thought for that matter.

In time they will age. Hair will gray and lines will form. The stunning aura of sexual appeal will lose its shine, and they will be ushered out of my presence.

They are in the end expendable and easily replaced. I care not for them personally beyond a simple one night stand. For in the end I cannot allow myself to be tied down by one woman. It is not worth my time or my effort to seek out a permanent spouse, for in the end I would never settle for anything less than an equal, and they are all inferior to me.

My thoughts are drawn from such musings as Mara rouses from her short nap. She raises herself up, allowing the blanket to fall away and reveal her stunning form.

"Please come back to bed Sire." She asks.

Hmm, I do have a morning conference to attend. But as I look over her beautiful body I find myself temporarily transfixed. Beautiful women are much like fine works of art, in that, to me, they are objects to be stared at. That is their only consistent basic value. The fires of lust are stoked again, and the same desire I felt last night with her returns in a heartbeat. To hell with the meeting, Pestage can handle it.

Without a word I walk over to the bed, take her in my arms, and embrace the bestial lust that seeks to consume us both in the flames of desire.

It's good to be Emperor.

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**I feel mildly unclean having written that. Hopefully it was somewhat tastefully done and not to crass.**


	18. Sloth

**Ashla: I'm glad I got you interested. You won't be disappointed with the rest. **

**Loteva: I considered having Palpatine rub Vader's face in it, but I always thought that Palpatine was a little to dignified to basically go up to his henchmen and say, "when was the last time you got laid. I have at least twenty girls a week. Ha ha ha." Maybe he would be a little more dignified about it, but I honestly couldn't see him lowering himself to what is basically a college level of maturity.**

**Zexs- Indeed. Methinks Mara left this part of her life out when she told Luke she was the Emperor's hand.**

**Nangijala- Glad to see you like what you see so far. Stick around and you will see a lot more.**

**Steven- Trust me it was as disgusting for me to write as it was for you to read. But Dark Jedi Jade has already had Palpatine/Isard done to death (very well I might add) and I didn't know much about anyone else that could fill the role.**

**Please Leave a Review!**

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The average being is remarkably fickle and easy to manipulate. All that is required to bend a person to your will is an innate knowledge of the average person's psychology. Sometimes I am almost surprised that I managed to accomplish so much and get so far. Overthrowing a millennia year old institution of government that spanned an entire galaxy and annihilating its supernatural defenders would seem like a monumental, some would even say impossible venture.

But for the Sith nothing is truly impossible, not if you know how to manipulate someone.

People are naturally selfish and lazy, always searching for the method that shall give them the most reward with the least amount of physical work involved.

Manipulation is the greatest weapon in the arsenal of the Sith, and I have used it to great affect during the last few years of the Grand Plan.

The vast majority of people I find lack either the intelligence or the will to run their lives or maintain society properly. They would protest otherwise of course. They would claim with boisterous vigor that they are individuals who follow their own path, a path that they are willing to travel on their own. They claim that they are willing and able to work hard to achieve any goal.

The reality of life though is different. Deep down inside most people secretly yearn to have their lives run for them, rather than by them. They may protest to the contrary and even try to resist, but deep down all beings crave to be ruled.

Life for them after all is very torturous and fraught with hard work and difficult decisions which entail a great deal of effort, commitment and intelligence to achieve whatever petty and futile accomplishment they are trying to achieve. Few beings have all three of these qualities. And so they begin to procrastinate, putting off what needs to be done today for tomorrow, reasoning with themselves that maybe the problem, whatever it may be will resolve itself.

From there apathy begins to spread like a virus.

Their petty and insignificant problems become the entire universe to them, and everything outside of this little bubble of irrelevance becomes itself irrelevant. Who cares if the politicians are systematically stripping them of their civil liberties and taking kickbacks and bribes? As long as they can keep their job or get that beautiful girl next door to go on a date with them they don't care.

It is that type of thinking that has allowed my ascendance to come about so smoothly. For in the end what is apathy if not an extension of selfishness? Selfishness by its very nature is a lack of concern for anything that is not yours or directly related to you. You care only about yourself and nothing about anyone or anything else.

And that is why democracy in this galaxy died such a pitiful death. Democracy requires dedication on the part of its citizens. It requires constant attention and care. It requires an intelligence that is capable of decided who is qualified for higher office. It also requires the capacity to easily find your way to the polling station and actually taking the ten minutes necessary to fill out the ballot. It seems easy, right?

Not exactly.

In my time I have heard the same old sorry excuses again and again. "I'm just one person in a galaxy of quadrillions. What does my vote matter?"

"I would vote if I could, but I have a job/ party/ date/engagement/random event that I need to go to."

"Eh, I just couldn't get around to it. I had nothing better to do, but I just couldn't be bothered."

My favorite of course is the patented, "There was an election today?"

It's too much of a burden to make up their own minds on such an important matter. They can't handle the decision making process, let alone the knowledge that they themselves were responsible for the catastrophe that the Republic found itself in in its final years. Every corrupt Senator, every incompetent Chancellor, every failed politician in general was a direct result of the failure of the people to choose sound leaders for themselves. And so their apathy only increased. They blame society, they blame the system, they blame practically everyone and everything except for themselves, for that would require effort and a sense of responsibility on their part.

Democratic societies like the one the Republic fostered tried to create an atmosphere of upward mobility and progress that sought to better the average person, not just financially, but also spiritually and ethically. And of course over time some citizens would start to say "Why should we bother trying to attain this level of moral perfection. Why should we waste our time and effort trying to be better people when we could be doing something that is actually worth our time?"

People stopped caring. They stopped following the example of exemplary people. They stopped looking up to their heroes. They couldn't be bothered to strain their necks.

They stopped on the path to a better and more fulfilling life and decided to shut themselves away from the cares of the galaxy at large. What does it matter if crime rates were skyrocketing and the Republic was going into debt? If it doesn't affect me directly I don't care. That seemed to become the unspoken slogan of the galaxy in the time leading up to the Clone Wars. Whenever something bad happened they blamed the system and the authorities that held the system together. They never did anything about it mind you. No, they just continued on their own little course to self-destruction, eyes firmly shut with fingers in their ears as they prepared to fall off of the cliff and into the abyss.

When liberty died and I declared myself the Emperor, the Senate applauded me. The entire galaxy applauded me. At long last the tiresome burden of democracy would be lifted from the shoulders of the people. No longer would they have to maintain the system of government by themselves. No longer would they have to take responsibility for their actions. No longer would they have to pay attention or pretend to pay attention to politics and their leaders. No longer would they officially have to care. No longer would they have to aspire. No longer would they have to think.

From now on someone would do all of the heavy lifting for them. From now on someone would do all of their thinking for them. All they have to do now is just follow orders.

And really, isn't that such a reassuring idea to the common man, to be free of the burden of actually working hard to keep a government and a society free? They don't need to care anymore. They just need to be ruled and to accept it.

There are some individuals, the Rebellion in particular who consider me an evil man for taking away democracy and freedom, but it's not as if many people were very happy with democracy and freedom to begin with. These ideals must be maintained and watched constantly in order for them to survive and flourish. But that requires effort and the will to maintain them. Few beings have the attention span or the desire to commit so deeply. They are much like children in a way. They don't really know what they want or need, and so they have to be watched over and strictly controlled so that they do not lose their way.

For whatever reason they just gave up and closed themselves off from the universe. They concocted for themselves a little cocoon composed only of their lives and their insignificant problems. They desperately seek pleasure and fun, living only for today with no thought of tomorrow, because if they did not do that they would realize a horrible truth. They had everything. Everything could have been theirs if they had only kept working for it. If they had only kept on trying they could have created a glorious world for themselves and their descendants to live in. It wouldn't have been perfect, but it would have been better than what they had.

People just can't cope with that idea, that idea that some system or unknown group was _not_ responsible for making the galaxy into the twisted place that it has become as they have believed. It is them. It has always been them. They couldn't be motivated to work hard, they couldn't pay attention. They couldn't dedicate themselves. All they cared about was themselves and doing as little as possible while seeking to get as much as they could.

That is how the Sith finally won. It wasn't through superior firepower or mind control or some doomsday machine that the Sith achieved absolute power.

I won because the collective will of the people had shriveled up and died.

When the time finally came the galaxy simply handed me power.

For in the end I know the people of this galaxy well. They are easily taken advantage of. Their sloth was their greatest weakness and one of the tools that I used to reshape the known cosmos in my image.

There was nothing the Jedi could have done to stop this.

The damage to the collective psyche was done.

The minds of the populace were largely made up.

It was too late.

It always has been, and it always will be too late.


	19. Greed

**In which we see old Palp's taking a page from Gordon Gekko's big book of greed.**

**Dark Jedi Jade- Thanks for the review. My mention of you in the intro was indeed meant to be complementary. Your work is very well written and thought out. **

**Ashla- Thanks for the review as always. Loved the most recent chapter of Tarkin's Fist II by the way. Excellent work as always. Trust me I got a great deal of inspiration from Terran politics.**

**Loteva- We have the exact same problem here in the U.S. It seems to be an ailment that threatens most democracies today. C'est la vie I suppose.**

**Please Leave a Review!**

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It is a most confusing thing, the values of the Jedi. They were a most unnatural group of individuals, shunning wealth and material possessions in favor of enlightenment. For some odd reason they saw greed and the pursuit of greater knowledge as being mutually exclusive. They saw the acquisition of things as nothing more than a hindrance. They failed to see the inherent value of accumulation. They failed to see the value of greed. For if one is greedy would they not work harder to accumulate greater wisdom?

Greed is one of the most potent forces that shape the cosmos themselves. Greed is not the wicked vice that the Jedi claimed it was.

Greed is useful.

Greed is good.

Greed is only natural.

For what is greed if not the desire to possess?

Every sentient creature that has ever lived possessed greed. To desire things is only natural. Food, water, friends, homes, families, communities, businesses, relationships and much more are founded and revolve around greed. We desire these things, and because we desire these things we go forth into the world and strive to accomplish that which we want.

Greed is the backbone upon which civilization itself is founded and given root. Without it there would be nothing. I should know. Greed has made me into the man I am today.

To the Sith greed is not a vice to be suppressed, as it is with the Jedi. Rather it is a virtue to be nurtured and cared for. We allow it to grow and prosper, driving us forward along with our rage. But like our rage we do not allow greed to blind us or consume us. Yes, greed is one of my more potent ministers, allowing me to execute the Sith Grand Plan with flawless efficiency.

When many think of the Sith, they imagine horrific warriors with scarlet blades and black robes seeking death and mayhem. But I find that greed makes a Sith more suited for the role of a politician than a soldier.

There is no institution in the universe created by civilization that is as dependent on greed than politics. Politics is nothing more than puppet masters attempting to get as much as they can for themselves and their constituents as possible (but mostly for themselves). Policies and laws are shaped by greed, specifically an all-encompassing desire for power, wealth and recognition. Greed fuels the ambitions of many a politician, driving them to climb the ladder from a lowly backbencher in a legislature to the very heights of political power. They covet any influence they can achieve, making my job all the easier.

Greed makes the task of manipulation all the easier. If an individual, such as myself for instance, knows succinctly the desires of others he can use that desire against them. Greed for money and greed for power amongst the small minded politicians I once called my colleagues made it all the easier to play them off against one another. Whenever I wanted a policy past through the Senate all I had to do was play to their greed in one form or another. For some Senators that was a bribe here and there. For the more "honest" ones it was the promise that the policy would make them look good and benefit their people (which would in turn benefit them).

Greed amongst politicians allowed me to rise up through the highest ranks of government and achieve absolute power.

But greed was most essential in one critical aspect. Greed brought about the triumph of the Sith through Anakin Skywalker.

Poor, predictable Anakin; he wanted more. He wanted his mother to live, he wanted to be the most powerful Jedi ever. He wanted his wife to live. He wanted the Jedi to recognize his obvious greatest. He wanted to have his cake and eat it to. He wanted to save everyone.

That sounds like greed to me.

He was never satisfied with his lot in life. He always wanted more, yearning and striving for greater power and understanding. He finally realized though that the power he sought would not be found amongst the Jedi. Only the Sith could bring him to understand the true nature of power. Only the Sith could allow his greed to be brought to its ultimate fruition. The Jedi tried not to be influenced by greed, and because of this rejection of avarice they died.

I have found that greed is but a tool of the process of natural selection. That which is unfit to live dies and that which is deemed fit lives. Greed motivates and drives beings in the grand struggle of life. For life is indeed a struggle. Life is a constant battle of pushing, shoving, and coveting as we ever slouch forward on the path in search of more and more. Greed is a motivator. It fuels us, and binds us and gives us strength, much like the Force itself. The drive to accumulate more and more of everything inevitably leads to conflict of one form or another. These conflicts range from civil disputes between individuals and galaxy spanning wars. But because of greed conflict ensues, and because conflict ensues one side must inevitably be declared the victor.

The winner of any conflict naturally ascends to a role of greater power and influence in society.

Greed instills in a person the passion to do whatever they can to ascend to the top of the pyramidal structure of power.

But I feel that, most importantly, the successful display of greed is a sign of triumph in your life. The palaces in which I reside are large and imposing. The halls are cavernous and studded with precious gems. The walls are lined with expensive pieces of art and magnificent statues and sculptures. The rooms are appointed with luxurious furniture and everywhere a person may look they shall find a testament to my greed.

For greed is victory you see. These trinkets have little intrinsic value as far as I myself am concerned, but they have tremendous value as far as my underlings are concerned. They are easily awed by this display of wealth and power that I possess. These items are a symbol of the power I possess and play the role of a subtle, if not constant, reminder that I am their superior. They covet a small fraction of that which I possess. The luxury that I possess reminds them that they are my inferiors and fuels their desire to seek out my favor.

And so the dance of greed begins anew. My loyal followers, seeking more and more of my favor squabble and bicker with one another for my preference, yearning for the opportunity to gain greater prestige and influence from me. Greed binds the Empire together, as it rightfully should, for in the end greed is good.

These material possessions are a status symbol of the success that greed has given me. But why precisely do we covet these things? Why do we seek power and physical items? I suppose that the easiest answer to that question is that we want to be happy. I suppose everyone wants to be happy, and so they seek greater power in order to gain that happiness.

Am I happy?

Am I content?

I most certainly am not content. Enough has never been enough for me or for anyone else for that matter. I have found some modicum of comfort in certain material possessions, but the feeling of satisfaction at having successfully accumulated more is always fleeting at best.

Why is that?

Perhaps I have not accumulated enough. That must be it. Yes, I just don't have enough. My desire for greater authority has not been sated because my power is not yet absolute, approaching absolute certainly but not absolute itself.

But when will I ever be fully satisfied? When will I be happy? I am not entirely sure, but in time I will get everything that my heart desires. It is inevitable.

My greed has never failed me in the past, and so I will continue to gather more power to myself. Someday my greed will be satisfied, but that day is not today.


	20. Pride

**Darth Obsydian- Glad to see you in the reviews section. I am also glad that you like what you see thus far.**

**Steven- I respect your opinion and your right to speak your opinion, but I would prefer it if you would kindly keep direct political comments on present day politicians to yourself. Whenever I mention politics I am making references only to the state of politics in general. These chapters do NOT have any political agenda aside from pointing out voter apathy or corruption in general. I am not making direct allusions to any modern day, living politicians, nor am I advocating that one party or ideology is better or worse than the other. Personally I think that Palpatine is neither conservative nor liberal. He is just authoritarian and will do anything and everything to achieve power for himself. Period.**

**Loteva- I like the idea of Palpatine being a metaphorical black hole.**

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"He will join us or die Master." The ghostlike form of Vader declares. Half a galaxy away from where the aging apprentice is genuflecting before his master the connection is cut and the holographic projection flickers and dies, leaving an old man alone with nothing but his guards and his thoughts. The throne room is cavernous and dim, just as he likes it, and for a moment the Emperor stares into space where the glimmering form of his apprentice once knelt.

The scarlet robed guards stand as still as statues, knowing that their liege is best left alone with his thoughts. But in the dark recesses of their mind, they wonder what His Majesty is thinking. But they know better than to voice their concerns. The Emperor is brooding, and he is never to be interrupted in his brooding.

It is all out in the open now. After three years of deceit and subterfuge it is all out in the open. Vader knows that I know and I know that Vader knows. The son of Skywalker lives.

Vader claims that he will join us or die. What type of fool does Vader take me for? I have never forgotten his last attempt to overthrow me. And yet he thinks that I will readily take him at his word that he will impress his son into my service? Sadly we need one another. Vader relies on me for his power, and at the moment I rely on him as my enforcer, but in the end though Vader is more dependent on me than I am on him. It is only a matter of time until he is eventually replaced. It is sadly amusing how transparent Vader is in his actions and motivations. He was never very good at keeping things hidden from me.

Vader seeks to convert his son to the Darkside, that much is true, but he seeks to make the boy his apprentice. He honestly believes that together the two of them can destroy me and rule the galaxy. It is hard for me at times to take him seriously. To think that Vader believes that a wizened old cyborg and his untrained son are actually capable of posing a threat to me. It is pathetic and at times impossible to believe, but it seems that after all of these years Vader is still blinded by his pride.

Vader always was a prideful man. Even when he was a young child fresh from Tatooine he thought that he was someone special. During his apprenticeship to Kenobi Skywalker was always prideful. One could even call such pride obsessive really. He was the best. He was proud of his ascension from slavery to full scale Jedi knighthood. He was proud that he had played such a crucial role in the liberation of Naboo. And in his time as a Padawan his ego only inflated.

He and Master Kenobi went on many an adventure in the ten years between Naboo and the eruption of the Clone Wars. Every mission seemed to only increase his pride in himself and in his own accomplishments. Whether it was settling disputes or taking down pirates gangs Anakin seemed to increasingly marvel at his own sense of growing power and prestige.

The outbreak of the Clone Wars only seemed to increase his pride even further. "The Hero With No Fear" they called him. World upon world sang his praises to the heavens. He was so proud of that. Their praises fueled his pride and consistently reassured him of his own greatness.

Such wonderful hubris did Anakin exhibit in those days. It made my job all that easier. He was so easily manipulated, so blinded by his pride in his accomplishments and so enamored with his own greatness that he couldn't even see the blatantly obvious signs that begged him to turn back before it was too late.

Anakin was proud, and as a result he grew to be cocky. Recklessness quickly followed, and at that point disaster I am happy to say was inevitable.

Anakin's plans were filled with risk. They were glorified gambles, nothing more, nothing less. And like gambling the results were fairly predictable. When he won he won big.

But when Anakin lost, he lost badly. But the wonderful thing about young Skywalker was this: he didn't learn from his mistakes. He kept taking risks, he kept making the wrong decisions. He spent his time playing with fire, and time and time again he was actually surprised when he got burned.

His hubris had grown so great that Anakin quickly developed a rather quaint method of rationalization whenever things blew up in his face. It wasn't his fault that things went catastrophically wrong. Obi-Wan and the Council were holding him back. The Jedi were unfair. The Code was so constricting. No one understood or cared for him or his genius.

(It is truly a testament to my power that I had the mental fortitude to listen to him complain for hours on end every single week for thirteen years straight and not electrocute him!)

Yes, he blamed everyone for his problems but himself. He was special after all. The rules of life didn't apply to him. He was beyond reproach or criticism. Anyone who was critical of his actions was just a close minded fool who didn't really understand just how powerful he really was. After all, he was the Chosen One, destined to bring balance to the… you get the point.

Really, all I had to do was just prod him a little here and there in order to get what I wanted. It required little to no effort. I am actually quite sure he would have suffered a breakdown and fallen to the Darkside even without me there to push.

Vader claims that Anakin is dead and that nothing of him survives, but I'm afraid I disagree. You see, Anakin's pride still lives in Vader and he still doesn't even see it. Vader never could put two and two together. For the first half of his apprenticeship he wallowed in his own self-pity. Padme forced him to kill her or she betrayed him to Ob-Wan was the typical complaint depending on the month. The Jedi had abandoned him or deceived him (again, depending on the month). Obi-Wan had condemned him to live as a glorified cripple. I had tricked him and used him. He never once held himself accountable for his lot in life. In his mind he had sacrificed everything and no one, not even the people who professed to love him would stand by him.

How utterly disgusting.

Anakin thought he was above the law as the sky is above the ground. He believed in that ridiculously naïve point of view that only a Jedi or a child could possess: the idea that he could save everyone. He thought that he could save everyone if only those closest to him would stop trying to restrain him. If he couldn't save someone, like his mother for instance, he would rationalize it away. Either the Council wouldn't help him achieve greater power to accomplish his goals or Obi-Wan and the mission had prevented him from getting there in time to help.

But that is the wondrous power of pride it seems. It takes a selfless emotion like love, an emotion that proclaims that I care about you more than anything else in the universe, and turns it into a selfish one. "You are more important to me than anything else" becomes, "my personal feelings, which at the moment just so happen to revolve around you, are more important than anything else." That is the insidious nature of pride, and it has been a most useful assistant.

It is strangely ironic I suppose. The Jedi were always quite disgusted with the notion of pride and sought to stamp it out whenever it appeared, but of all the beings that I had ever encountered the Jedi were the most prideful.

The Jedi always tried to hide their pride behind a veil of false modesty. They claimed that they were selfless and considerate, but in the last few years of the Order's existence I could see pride spreading through the Temple like a virus.

In their minds they stood at the pinnacle of civilization. They were the crux upon which the entire galaxy was supported. They were a pillar of virtue and a shining beacon of hope and peace for the Republic. They loved the praise and the attention they got. Every time someone sang their praises they would attempt to dismiss it, but deep down they enjoyed the praise and adoration of the masses.

They claimed that they were humble and modest. But what is modesty if nothing more than a form of politeness? It would be most rude after all for anyone, Jedi or not to respond to a complement by saying, "yes, I know how great I truly am, please tell me more about my wondrous magnificence." The Jedi always were annoyingly polite after all. But perhaps I am being overly negative. Perhaps the Jedi were prideful without even knowing it.

Yes, yes that would make sense. Pride has a way of sneaking up on a person I suppose. Many go their entire lives without realizing that their lives are dominated by pride.

The Jedi were no different in that regard. They believed themselves beyond reproach and beyond criticism. Their way was the right way and anyone who did not agree with them was simply to ignorant or close minded to understand their wisdom.

If this is the reality of the situation it seems that the only real difference between the Jedi and Anakin was that the Jedi at the very least had the common decency to be covert and discrete with their pride, burying it under layers of modesty and false humility, whereas Anakin had neither the tact nor the restraint to pretend to be humble.

Perhaps that is why the Council's relationship with Anakin was so rocky. Perhaps subconsciously the Council saw in Anakin that which they secretly saw in themselves.

Perhaps they didn't like what they saw.

In the end though it matters not. The Jedi are dead and Vader is my apprentice.

But it seems that Vader is still filled with pride, believing that he has the strength and the cleverness to defeat me.

Well my old apprentice, I look forward to the coming confrontation over the fate of the Sith and your son. Just remember one thing though Lord Vader.

Pride goeth before a fall.


	21. Gluttony

**Special shout out for Darth Nihilius and the Sith Emperor for inspiring this chapter. Please Leave a Review!**

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The heavens are quite breathtaking to behold. For a civilization that has been star faring for countless millennia the charm of twinkling stars has somewhat lost its splendor. We know precisely what they are and we can travel to those far off celestial spheres with relative ease, and so we begin to give them less and less thought as the mystery that is the sky dulls. The average person on Coruscant thinks even less about them than others might, as the light pollution cast off by Galactic City makes it nearly impossible for them to see those little pinpricks off in the distant void.

But there are times, when I am not saddled with work or plots that I allow myself to look at star maps. With the press of a button a holographic map of the galaxy appears and floats above my head. I gaze upon every star, every nebula, and every inhabited world much as a predator surveys its dinner. It will all be mine very soon.

Not since the time of Lord Nihilius has there existed in a Sith such an overwhelming hunger. I hunger for power and influence. I hunger for domination. And yet I find myself never fully sated. I yearn to possess the sparkling gems of every star. I wish to harness the power of gravity and make it my own. I seek to bend hyperspace itself to my will. I seek to subjugate both life and death to my service and consume them whole. Whenever I look at this map I sense the beating pulse of the galaxy itself. I allow waves of life and power to wash over me like waves crashing upon the shore, and I allow my hunger to grow stronger.

It will all be mine someday. In time I shall reach out this hand out into the very cosmos themselves and take hold of the very fabric of the universe itself. In time the Force shall keep no secrets from me, and I shall know all. In time my thirst for greater knowledge about the Dark Side shall be satisfied, and I shall discover the secrets of immortality.

And then the feast shall begin. My life shall span countless eons, and I shall come to possess the patience of stones lying in wait in the gravel. Like the Sith Emperor of millennia past I shall begin to consume all that is around me. The life force of an entire galaxy shall be mine to feed upon and to sustain me.

First an entire city shall wither and die as the energies that maintain their bodies are siphoned off to fuel my power, and then the range of my abilities shall expand. A continent, an entire planet, a solar system, even the very stars themselves shall be consumed whole, the nuclear fuel of a billion suns absorbed into my body. From star system to star system I shall travel, devouring all that is and all that could be in my path, leaving nothing more than the dead husks of worlds and the whisper of that which could have been.

One by one the light of the stars that brighten this galaxy shall flicker and die as they are consumed by my ravenous hunger. In time the galaxy will cease to be as all life dies and the stars themselves go out.

Even then I will not be satisfied.

For thousands of years the creatures that lived in this galaxy prided themselves as being the very pinnacle of civilization. They marveled at their supposed greatness and believed that they had created a society which had reached the apex of history.

But this galaxy is not the entire universe, not by a long shot. Beyond the Outer Rim there exists the great void. In the far off distance there exist other stars, other galaxies, other worlds. It goes to reason that there is life elsewhere in creation, seeing as it is so prevalent here. In time I shall travel to these worlds. When the last life form is consumed and the last star decays into nothing I shall move on. I shall seek out new life and new civilizations. I shall go where no one has gone before, and the process shall begin again.

The cycle of death and consumption shall repeat itself again and again as the eons pass. I shall be like a black hole, consuming all matter in my path and adding it unto myself. I shall be a rupture in the fabric of space from which there is no escape and no hope of survival.

This process shall take time. Billions of years perhaps shall pass, but my hunger will drive me onwards. In time I will succeed, and my hunger will finally be satisfied. I will consume the universe and add its power to my own. To do such a thing would set me above the mythical gods of old.

With my hunger satisfied and nothing left to consume I shall finally be allowed to rest in peace. There will be no more vengeance, no more plots, no Jedi and no Sith. No civilizations, no nothing. There shall only be me and the vacuum of the void to keep me company. I shall finally have peace floating in the blackness of space for the rest of eternity.

Perhaps after a few billion years of rest I shall recreate the universe in my own image and start the process all over again. Perhaps I would abandon consumption and simply play with the new universe like it was my plaything, smiting people for fun and what not. I think I would enjoy being a god.

But for now I must put aside such far of dreams. The needs of the present way on my consciousness more than the plans of the distant future. Such plans would be seen by most as being delusions of grandeur at the least, absolute madness at most. But I feel that, given enough time I shall uncover the secrets that shall allow me to do that which I dream of doing. After all, if the old Sith Emperor had the power to do this, then why can't I?

There is a small rumbling sound that distracts my thoughts. I allow myself a small smile. I haven't eaten since breakfast. Such are the sacrifices that the Chancellorship demands.

Oh well, it is almost time for dinner.

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**Hail Galact- Sorry, sorry, I mean, Hail Palpatine, destroyer of worlds! Sorry if this chapter was a little short but there was only so much I could do with gluttony. But don't worry, I will definitely make it up to you guys with envy. It will be a longer chapter, and with any luck it will be a satisfying conclusion to the Seven Deadly Sins arc. I have something wonderful planned.  
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	22. Envy

**Here we are with the last chapter in the Seven Deadly Sins Arc. Hope you guys enjoy this. Please Leave a Review! I promise that I don't bite.**

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The cabin is dark and empty, save for its one occupant and a flickering light. By the window I repose in my chair, staring out into the blue and white pulses that flash and dance just outside. All that separates me from this luminous eternity is a few inches of window. It is strange, that something so fundamentally weak as a simple window could separate a great power from an even greater power.

It is said that men have gone mad staring into the void of hyperspace. They say that there is something about it that is just not right.

It is disturbing.

It is uncomfortable.

It is unnatural.

Some even call it an abomination.

I like it.

The streaks of color remind me of an abstract painting where the universe is but a canvas. I see the swirling energies of hyperspace twisting and refracting, swirling and running with no pattern or rhythm. Hyperspace simply is; doing as it pleases with no greater goal or desire. It has no pressing obligations or problems, nor does it need them.

If it was sentient it would likely live quite a carefree existence, free of responsibility or desire.

In a sense I envy it that.

What an unusual thought; a sentient creature envying an unintelligent phenomena. It seems that I am having a _moment_.

An unusual thing to call these bouts of melancholy, _moments_, but I suppose it is better to admit at least to myself that these occurrences actually transpire rather than denying it.

From a certain point of view it only makes perfect sense that a Sith should envy others. We are naturally jealous, as jealousy is simply another term for desiring something or someone that we do not possess but someone else does. The problem I find myself in though is that, occasionally, when I am alone with nothing to do, there are times when my mind begins to wander and I begin to desire that which I normally would not want.

I begin to think in terms of what could have been. How could I have turned out differently had I taken a different path?

Could I have found true love?

Could I have had friends?

Could, dare I ask it, could I have been truly happy?

The rational part of mind tries desperately to crush such weak thoughts. Such things as love and friendship do not exist; they are merely the delusional byproduct of a pathetic desire for companionship that comes about only as the further byproduct of an irrational fear of dying alone.

But these things cannot be complete delusions, can they? Even the wildest and most outrageous myths have some granule of truth to them, don't they?

How I yearn to be rid of such idiotic thoughts. Have I not grown beyond such ignorant and infantile ideas? It seems not.

I sense that it would be most detrimental to my mental health to repress such emotions. At any rate my attempts to crush them have met thus far with failure. Perhaps if I allow myself to experience these feelings they will finally leave me alone.

Alone.

I've always been alone. Even when I'm in a crowd of thousands, or surrounded by aides or guards I am always alone. I've never had anything a person could call a friend. I've had lovers, minions, stooges, and allies, but never friends.

I never really fully understood the concept, to be frank. For two persons to develop such a platonic link of trust and care without an ulterior motive is inconceivable to me. What do people see in each other? Why do they take such pleasure in each others company when the relationship itself yields no material benefit for them? I don't know. But they seem to enjoy it.

From my days as a child on Naboo to the present I have been an observer, watching people live their lives. Many of them seem content with each other, simply enjoying the company and camaraderie that others instill in them.

I always hated those people. What cause had they to be so happy? Laughing their little laughs and prattling on with one another. Why were they so happy? Didn't they know that they wasted their lives on such inconsequential banter when there were much more important and worthwhile things to be done?

I hated them because I was jealous. A small fragment of me still is. I never understood such seemingly simple emotions. They made it seem so easy, those nameless masses that I would observe while I stalked the streets. I just couldn't do it. I couldn't relax or allow myself to open up to anyone.

I think the greatest example of this was the romantic relationship that Anakin and Amidala developed for one another. I pitied them at first. I had believed that their mockery of a marriage was nothing more than a pathetic sham, the result of desperation and a sense of sexual repression combined with the thrill of defying the conventions of their stations. But as time went on I saw something else. They really did, honestly, truly love each other. They cared more for one another than anything else in the universe and would have sacrificed everything just to be with each other. How easily these two fell head over heels for one another. And to think that their feelings of affection were actually genuine. In the span of a few weeks they had found that which I had never found in my entire life. If they had not both been so essential to my plans I would have likely killed the both of them out of spite.

It is true that I have had many women in my life, but the pleasures they have brought to me, great though they were, were nonetheless only temporary. Then again I never actually wanted to get to know them beyond simple physical pleasures.

I built up a wall around myself and dug a moat around it, isolating myself from the rest of the world. And now I am alone.

I am always alone.

For years I buried these feelings underneath a mountain of will. I had more important things to think about. My life was dominated by a seemingly endless campaign of bringing down the Republic and annihilating the Jedi. My life became consumed with short term goals. Get elected Senator, manipulate some stupid politicians, start an invasion, get elected Chancellor, start a war, kill the Jedi, dissolve the Republic, crown yourself Emperor, stamp out sedition. All short term goals.

I always tried to be as busy as possible, filling every waking moment with work or some form of activity. For in the end I knew without knowing that if I allowed myself a moment of idleness these feelings would return. And they have. Because now I find myself asking, now what?

I have achieved everything I set out to do when I joined the Sith. I became the Master of the Order, defeated all of our enemies, dismantled the Republic and created an Empire of darkness. I should be satisfied. I should be happy. I have everything that I ever wanted.

And for a time I was indeed happy. But such feelings were fleeting. And I never was fully satisfied with anything. It was as if there was always something that just wasn't fully right with my life. Something, but what?

Perhaps I possess this envy because there are countless beings my age who are quite satisfied with what they accomplished in life.

It isn't fair. I have achieved what few could have hoped for in their wildest dreams, and there are still people who exist in this universe who are happier than I despite possessing less.

Perhaps this is the fatal flaw of the Sith. Perhaps we were not undone by our wrath or our lust for power. Perhaps the Sith failed before because of their envy.

We would never admit it to anyone (I most certainly would not) but perhaps the Sith were simply jealous of the Jedi. The people for the most part loved and respected the Jedi. They were champions, heroes, friends to all living things. They basked in the light of their own fame and glory while we were left out in the cold, unwanted and loathed by all.

But the worst part was the fact that they held in their palms tremendous power, and they did not use it as we would use it. The Jedi could have easily made themselves the supreme rulers of the galaxy and the people would have gladly put the crown on their collective heads.

But they never took power. It would have been so unsettlingly easy, and yet they were not even tempted by power, that which we desired above all else.

They could easily come to possess the very thing we as Sith coveted the most, and they didn't even want it. But when we tried to seize that power for ourselves the Jedi were always there to deny us our right.

Many a Sith has gone on many a tirade against the weakness and incompetence of the Jedi. Many would foam at the mouth in abject rage at the mere mention of the Jedi Knights. But, if they were so weak, so incompetent as many a Sith professed them to be, how did they always win? The truth was that for the longest time the Jedi were better than the Sith. They were everything that we were not, their mere existence a mockery and an affront to the glory of the Sith.

But we were always beaten. Their methods and their teachings seemed to have been vindicated by their repeated victories, while ours appeared to be discredited.

We envied their triumphs, and as a result our hatred for them grew by leaps and bounds, driving us to work harder to bring them down.

Men like Yoda and Kenobi were the worst. They seemed so very satisfied with their lot in life. They were at their happiest when they were serving the Force. They were living a dream come true as far as they were concerned, and they were genuinely glad that this was what life had given them. They enjoyed being selfless and righting wrongs.

What type of fools were these beings if they gained such innate joy from such moronic and useless things?

Perhaps the old sayings are true after; ignorance is indeed bliss. Perhaps the Jedi lived their lives in their own little world where such things as good and evil did exist. Perhaps they lived in a make believe world constructed by some old storyteller where it feels good to be good and where the forces of the light always triumphed over the forces of evil. Perhaps they lived in a childish fantasy where doing what is "right" was reward enough, and things like power weren't even worth having.

Perhaps the Sith above all envy that ignorance the Jedi surely lived in. They were happy because they didn't know about the harsh realities of life. They were sheltered from the brutal truth of existence. They were free of the pain and the struggle that we had gone through.

They lived in a paradise of lies and self-deceit. They lived as Saints would live.

It is easy for one to be a Saint in paradise after all.

Perhaps that is why we hate, why I hate. We accumulate to ourselves power, trinkets and baubles that display our glory in the vain hope that we will be feared and adored, perhaps even loved for our power.

But such things only attract the covetous and the cruel. The people hate us for our power and themselves envy it. It seems that hate and desire only attract more hate and desire. These things when added together produce only misery, a misery that blackens the mood and twists the spirit.

But in the end these objects bring only temporary comfort, for in the end these things themselves are only temporary. Once, long ago these things were nothing, and someday they shall become nothing once again.

All was once dust, and unto dust these things shall return.

Perhaps that is why the Jedi were so happy while we were not. They took pride not in power and materials like the Sith, but rather invested their time and effort into different, maybe even more fulfilling objectives.

I'll never know. The last of the known Jedi died earlier this very day. I sensed his passing.

Grand Master Yoda is dead.

When I felt him go, the first time I had sensed him in nearly a quarter of a century, he seemed at peace. He didn't fear death. He died with nothing but the clothes on his back, and yet he died contented. He thought that he had lived a fulfilling and good life, and so he died with no regrets or fears.

That above all is why the Sith envied the Jedi. The Jedi never feared death. They would mourn for those who passed, but they would let go of all inhibitions and doubts and simply accept it. They tried to live their lives the best they could, knowing that each moment was precious. When their time came they rejoiced, for they would be reunited with the Living Force.

The Sith spend their lives in fear of death. It stalks us all with fangs bared and claws lashing out. We spend our lives accumulating power in the hopes of finding a way to cheat death from its bounty. A life on the run is a hollow life, a cursed life.

It is my life.

This is how I spent my life. At the moment a part of me wonders if it was a life well spent.

Of course it was. It had to have been. I did what needed to be done. The galaxy has become a monument to my greatness. Surely that means something?

I have made the right decisions. These lugubrious delusions are nothing more than childish thoughts and the leftover remnants of a man who never was. They are thoughts that men like Chancellor Palpatine would have had, had the kindly Chancellor the people thought I had been actually existed.

There is only Sidious. Now and forever there is Sidious. And I will not allow myself to feel jealousy for a group of dead people. Soon I shall arrive at my new battle station, with which I shall achieve ultimate power forever.

Only then will I find the satisfaction and happiness that has long since eluded me.

There are no other options.

And so, as my flagship continues to fly towards its destination, I continue to stare into the abyss of hyperspace. Shortly before we enter realspace for a fraction of a second I experience a sense of dread and wonder.

For a moment I could have sworn that something was staring back at me.

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**And so the Seven Deadly Sins arc comes to an end. Next up I answer a request from one of my readers. Which one? You'll see! Tune in next time bold viewers. Same bat time, same bat channel!**


	23. Who is the Monster and Who is the Man?

**I admit that I may have taken a few deliberate liberties with the timeline in Episode 6 during the last chapter, but hey, it wasn't too blatant, now was it? And it wasn't like I was deliberately screwing up continuity that badly right? After all, that is George Lucas' job (HAN SHOT FIRST). Anyhow I'm taking a slightly different approach with this chapter. Special shout out to AshlaTi. This chapter is for you. This takes place during the Zillo Beast Strikes Back. From a certain point of view. The title for this chapter comes from a verse from the opening song in the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Please leave a review!**

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Long have I slumbered beneath the dirt, hiding from the Dugs and their green mist of death. In the time of my forbearers we used to hunt them. Those were good times. My pack ate well in those days. But then the prey discovered the mist, and like the gusts of the wind our fortunes suddenly changed direction. The mist was painful. It choked us, burned us, killed us. For the first time that any of us could remember we were the prey, and our prey had become the predator.

The pack began to thin as one by one we succumbed to our old rivals. Then there was only I and a few others. They who survived had sought to make one last stand against the Dugs and their new weapon, but I was wounded, and so I was left behind to heal. I found an opening in the ground and allowed myself to rest there, deep within the catacombs beneath the dirt, waiting hopefully for the return of my brethren.

They never came, and I entered the deep sleep.

How long did I sleep? Many moons have surely passed, for the world I awoke to was far different from the world I had left.

The Dugs were still there. They were always there, the thrice cursed little demons. But something new had come to the land, something I did not understand.

What are these things, with sticks that shoot fire and swords that harness the very light and hum and glow with every slash? Be they mortal or gods?

I have heard of gods. The Elders spoke of them with reverence in stories as the pack gathered together after the hunt.

Surely these are gods, for they call upon demons and perform miracles. By their commands strange shining beasts appear like birds in the sky, monstrous in size and howling with a strange voice as they breathe fire and fly overhead. The demi puppets of these gods (for no mortals can control such magic) swarm about like ants with their black sticks shooting fire at me.

Why do they trouble me? I have led an honorable life according to the traditions and laws of the pack. Why do the vex me? Perhaps these are not the gods of the Zillo, as the Elders spoke of. Perhaps these are the gods of the Dugs, invoked against us as retribution for our devouring of their kin. Yes, the Dugs in their desperation have called upon their gods for protection, and now they have come to answer their prayers. How else could the Dugs have created the mist? It was given to them by the divine.

I am weak and getting weaker. These things will not leave me be. They crawl upon the land at the command of their lords and shoot blue fire at me, but this fire is different from the ones that the other creatures threw at me. It tires me. It hurts. The world is spinning. I cannot see.

Everything goes black.

I wake once more in a dark place. Is this the fabled land of the dead where it is said that all Zillo go when they die? No, my pack is not here to greet me. But this is surely a cave, for it is big and covers the ground beneath me entirely.

But such a cave I have never seen. This rock is smooth and seems to not be rock at all.

What vile place is this? I try to move but I cannot. My head is cloudy and my limbs feel tired. I turn my head this way and that. My arms are surrounded by blue light that sticks to me and keeps me from moving. I turn my head the other way, and see creatures moving about, discussing things or moving things.

I am in the lair of the gods.

Time passes and I am subject to cruelty. Why do they torment me? They jab me with sharp tools and grab and scrape at my scales. What have I done to anger them so and warrant this torture? I just wanted to be left alone. That is why I tried to combat their great fire spitting beasts.

They don't understand me, and I don't understand them, and so I cannot explain myself.

But there is one of them that I can connect to. It is small, like the rest of them, and it looks like a pointy fish. I have seen and eaten many fish, but this is the strangest fish I have ever seen. It speaks in a soothing, almost melancholy tone, as if it was trying to comfort me. Perhaps it is. But I do not understand it. It does not want to hurt me. But then why does it do so anyways? It seems to be in charge of this, whatever it is? Why then does it allow me to suffer when it does not want me to?

To my dread I find out soon enough.

Another god comes. This one does not look like a fish, but rather it looks similar to the one with the glowing sword that attacked me. The others in this cave venerate this creature. They respect and fear it. They seem to obey all of its commands, if it is indeed giving commands. Perhaps this is the leader of the pack.

I do not understand their language, but I try to listen, and I try to understand.

The fish thing calls it Chancellor.

Yes, this Chancellor is surely the leader. He carries himself like a leader (if it is indeed a he). It gives what sound to me to be orders, and the others seem to obey without question.

This is indeed a bold and powerful god, capable of floating through the air itself in a chariot like that which the Dugs used to use.

Chancellor observes me. I do not like the way it looks at me. And then, my head is racked with agony.

Darkness. Everything is darkness and pain and fear and horror. What magic is this? Chancellor is _different_ from the others. It can see into my mind. It knows what I think.

But, for a brief moment I can discern what it thinks.

I know what it _thinks_.

It, it, it is _wrong_, it is WRONG!

It is evil, an abomination.

It wants my scales.

Chancellor knows my scales are strong, and it wants to make scales like mine for its underlings.

But every time they grab and tug at my scales I scream in agony. They know that it pains me whenever they pull at them. Sometimes it is so painful that I think that I shall die.

Chancellor knows this, and it doesn't care. It speaks to the fish. I don't understand precisely, but the way it speaks to it I know that it knows. It knows that taking away my scales will kill me, and Chancellor doesn't care. It wants to kill me and take my scales for itself.

The fish seems to argue. It wants to help. Oh, blessed fish, noble fish.

But Chancellor cares not. It smiles up at me, grinning a smug little grin. It wants me dead and it shall soon have its way.

If I could I would crush that impudent trickster god. But, bound as I am, I am reduced to only a snarl.

I hate Chancellor. I hate it so much.

Time passes, how much time I do not know. The fish returns. It seems sad. It speaks to me. Perhaps it is saying that it is sorry. Perhaps it is saying not to be afraid. At this point it matters not.

Whether it is willing or unwilling to kill me the fish is the servant of Chancellor, and this god Chancellor is my enemy. It is now or never. It jabs me with some type of spear, and I feel the same pain that I would feel were I exposed to the mist. Now is the time. With the last of my strength, fueled by rage and a desire for vengeance I break free of the bonds that held me and charge out of the cave.

This is a strange land indeed, with massive pillars that shine and glow and reach up into the sky. How far from home am I?

It matters not. Vengeance is all that matters now.

Where is Chancellor? I must destroy him.

Flying creatures appear and breathe their infernal blue fire upon me. They are servants of Chancellor, and so I destroy them without thought. Beneath my feet hundreds scatter in fear. They too are servants of Chancellor, and it pleases me to see them scatter in fear. But where is it? Where is Chancellor?

I see him, bigger than he was in life, speaking to his subjects. I lash out and destroy this floating form. But it is an illusion. It was not him. But as I continue my rampage I see something, a structure that I had seen behind the illusion of Chancellor. Is that where it resides? It is as good enough a place to check as any.

I can feel him, I feel him somehow. In this shining place I feel him, black as pitch, almost glowing in evil. He is there, in that giant blue dome. An odd place for a god to live I suppose, but no more unusual than anything else in this place.

I will go to him and make him pay for this injustice.

The Elders once spoke of Zillo that had killed such gods. Demonslayers they were called. Perhaps tonight I shall earn a place in the legends of the Zillo, if any Zillo are left to hear the tale.

But this is indeed a perfidious and intelligent god. Just as I reach its lair one of its flying creatures attempts to flee. I know that Chancellor is within, and so I grab hold of it, ready to have my revenge.

But it is not so easy. More of Chancellor's demons arrive, running up and down my neck and back distracting me. One of Chancellor's guards, the same one that first fought me when I awoke slices the creature in half, allowing the part containing Chancellor to fall out of my hands. I ignore the others, Chancellor is the one I want.

I am so close, closer than I have ever been, but just as I am about to crush Chancellor one of his sentinels appears and spirits him away. I was so close. Vengeance upon my would be killer could have been mine. I must follow him.

But I cannot. More flying creatures arrive, firing bright lights at me. Have they not learned that they cannot hurt me? I roar at them in defiance, hoping to scare them away.

That was my first, and last mistake. They fire things at me that explode when they get near me. These things are filled with mist! They fire more and more of them at me and the mist grows bigger and stronger!

I can't see! It HURTS!

I'm, I'm afraid.

I can't think straight. Where am I? What did I ever do to deserve this. Why did Chancellor hate me so and want me dead? What did I do to him?

Blackness creeps about at the edge of my vision. This is the end. The world twists and turns about me. Why won't the pain end?

I wish the rest of my pack were here.

Perhaps I shall see them soon.

I can't hold on.

I fall.

I fall forever.

Everything goes black.

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It has been a very _long_ night. This has certainly been a complete fiasco. Hundreds dead at the very least, a large portion of the Senate District completely demolished. This is certainly a PR nightmare. It is certainly going to be difficult getting out of this corner. I can't really finger the Jedi for this catastrophe, as they were rather vehement in their desire to keep the Beast off of Coruscant. Perhaps I could blame Boll or her colleagues. Perhaps there is some politician I could blame. Oh well, I suppose I'll handle the fallout later. I've gotten out of more delicate predicaments in the past.

This was actually quite the exciting adventure. It has been quite some time since I was in anything resembling actual peril. It is always quite enjoyable to live life on the dangerous side once in a while. After all, it does break up the rather stale and dull monotony of running a government and attempting to take over the galaxy. It was mildly annoying at times not be able to call upon the Force, especially when I was about to be seemingly crushed, but appearances must be kept I suppose.

Despite it's current status of being, well, dead, the beast could still serve a purpose for me in the future. It's scales obviously are still worth their weight in precious gems, but I could use more nigh invincible creatures in the future. Perhaps in time they could be domesticated to serve me. With a little Sith sorcery anything is possible. A shame though that this was the last of its kind.

At least, it would be a shame if it weren't for the miracles of modern science.

In the end the Beast was truly to unintelligent to survive. It did not realize that I am the master of this universe, and that all life exists only to further my own ends. If I desire something to die in order to further my own ends then it should not only die, but die gladly, knowing that it has served its purpose.

Perhaps its clones shall know better.

Even in death this Beast shall serve me well. I look forward to seeing what uses I can put it to.

Everything and anything can be used to further my goals, and some day even this foul creature may yet prove to be of use to me.

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**As far as I am concerned, if dogs can sense a difference between humans and Terminators then Zillo Beasts can tell precisely where Sith Lords are. Call it animal instinct and leave it at that. At least that is my rationalization for it knowing precisely where in the Senate Building Palpatine was. Hope you guys liked this chapter.**


	24. A Meeting of Minds

**By popular demand we have the greatest EU villain (not really much competition but whatever) interacting with His Majesty. I'm not really familiar with this point in history so I'm just making stuff up as I go along. Please Leave a Review!**

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I am most displeased with recent events. No, I am not merely displeased. I am outraged. An entire taskforce has recently been completely annihilated by enemy forces, leaving not a single survivor in the wake of destruction. But now is neither the time nor the place to allow such turbulent emotions to get the better of me. I have much more pressing matters at hand.

One such matter is currently kneeling before me, head lowered in respect as scarlet eyes stare at the ground.

"It would seem that your little hypothesis on the outcome of the battle was proven correct after all _Admiral_ Thrawn."

The alien's head rises and glowing eyes gaze upon his Emperor. There is no sign of emotion in his face, there rarely is. But the eyes, those piercing, pupil-less eyes seem to hold within them a coldness, a detached sense of mild curiosity. He is studying me, that seems to be his default stance in most situations.

"I beg your pardon Your Majesty, but if memory serves properly I no longer go by that rank. You had me stripped of my command, as I remember."

There is a mild rebuke in these words, a chastisement that says without saying that he knew he was right. He knows that he won our little argument over how Imperial forces would handle in battle. If he was any other person I would kill him. But right now he is far too valuable.

"You were indeed relieved of command Admiral, but now that your argument has been proven correct I see no need in wasting a mind such as yours. But allow myself to be perfectly clear. Though you happened to be correct this time do not believe yourself exempt from my wrath. Mark my words, defy me again and there will be dire consequences. Do we understand one another?"

He seems to consider my words for a moment, never allowing himself to take his scarlet eyes from my yellow ones. He gets up and approaches me.

"Your Majesty, is it not the purpose of an adviser to advise?" he asks.

"It is." I reply.

"Then I admit to a mild level of confusion Sire, for I find myself in a state of contradiction."

"A state of contradiction?" I repeat. What does he mean by that?

"It is the purpose of an adviser to give his superiors information and an accurate picture of any given situation." He responds. "And that is precisely what I did. I presented to you accurate information on the strength and resources of not only our enemy but the fighting capacity of our task force. I factored in everything, from armament to location to crew psychology and found our forces lacking. I presented to you a candid and ultimately correct assessment that any such engagement given the circumstances would be a catastrophe for us. And now you wish for me to essentially lie to you so that you can boost your own ego?"

"It is the role of the subordinate to accept the decrees of his superior Admiral, and you defied me by refusing to follow orders."

"I did nothing of the sort Sire. It is also the role of the subordinate, in his capacity as an adviser to present to his superior a realistic assessment of a problem, not to sing your praises and offer you platitudes of Imperial invincibility."

Before I can offer a retort he raises his hands in a placating gesture, hoping to continue.

"I mean no offense Your Majesty. I have never meant offense to you or to your office. However, I am here to serve the Empire and its leader in what I myself see as the best way possible. That way is not through sucking up, but occasionally going against your own preconceived notions for your own good."

"Are you implying that I am not capable of making important military decisions for myself?" I ask with a trace of venom.

Thrawn shakes his head slowly, and continues, his tone of voice shifting to one you would expect from a Professor lecturing his student.

"I would never imply such a thing Your Highness, but if you will allow me I will say this. You sir are surrounded by sycophants. Be they members of your Ruling Council, members of the Moff Council or other military commanders, they all have one thing in common; they are desperate to please you. Their careers depend on remaining in your good graces sir, and so they will say anything that they believe will make you happy sir. If that means leaving certain information out of reports or stabbing one another in the back, they will gladly do so.

I however have neither the will nor the inclination to waste my time on such petty and irrelevant gestures. Your ministers and key supporters waste their time manipulating facts and figures, doing anything they can to please you at the expense of actually doing their jobs. Though in the short term it wins them political points and temporarily improves your mood, in the long run such methods are wasteful, inefficient, and ultimately detrimental to the vitality and security of the Imperial Government and Military."

He pauses, waiting for my reaction. I'm intrigued.

"Surely such a desire to appease their monarch and show their loyalty could only benefit the Empire." I counter.

"Loyalty is one thing Sire, blind loyalty is another entirely. I am a loyal Imperial sir, but I do not allow myself to be swept away by patriotic fervor."

"I am not entirely sure that I follow your mode of thought." I ask.

"I am an outsider Emperor, born and raised in the wilds of the Unknown Regions, as you already know. Therefore I was never indoctrinated into the myth of Imperial infallibility. It seems to me that, even in the days of the Old Republic the citizens of what you call the "civilized galaxy" have always held themselves to be the very pinnacle of any society. They believed themselves to be the greatest. Such a belief has only continued to flourish under the banner of the New Order. In the aftermath of the Clone Wars, the idea of superiority was stoked. Having defeated the Separatists you believed yourselves invincible. Having faced such a titanic threat and triumphed, you believed that no other force could challenge you. You thought yourself undefeated."

At this Thrawn turns and looks out the window. The cityscape of Imperial Center stretches out from horizon to horizon, looking at first no different than it had in millenium past. But one certain difference seems to catch the Admiral's eye, a difference that indicates the changing times. A massive propaganda poster is seen plastered on the side of an office building. It is an image of a robed hand, clearly mine, outstretched with the galaxy cradled in the palm.

"EVERY PLANET IN HIS HANDS" the caption reads.

"Every planet in his hands." He declares. "Most imperial citizens believe this claim. They believe that the galaxy belongs to the Empire and that nothing can shake it from your control. They are of course grievously mistaken. This empire today faces a million threats both within and beyond its borders. Rogue states, terrorists, pirates, criminals, revolutionaries, ambitious officers, alien empires; they all seek the downfall of this Empire. The empire is not invincible Sire. It is vulnerable, it will always be vulnerable, and frankly putting sycophantic fools in charge who believe their own propaganda of invincibility is practically begging for annihilation."

"Tell me then Admiral, why do you serve?" I ask.

"Sire?" He asks. He's confused. I'm secretly pleased that for once in this conversation he doesn't have an answer ready.

"Thus far you have been quite critical of my supporters and of Imperial policy. Why would you serve a regime that you consider to be so fundamentally flawed? I ask.

He doesn't answer right away. His alien eyes turn to something on a wall.

A painting. He has a particular weakness for art it seems.

It is one of the lesser parts of my collection really, and one of the few remaining reminders of my Naboo heritage, kept in this, one of my less used throne rooms. It is a portrait of Theed at sunrise. The city itself can be seen in the background, while the foreground portrays a lush meadow with rolling grass and a waterfall by the Palace.

"An exquisite piece Your Majesty." He murmurs. He takes a few more moments to observe it before answering.

"Nothing is perfect Sire; my criticisms are nothing more than a reflection of that. The reason I serve can be found in this painting though."

He turns back and points first at the field and then the city. "I see here the chaos of nature, beautiful but untamed and wild. I see here however civilization, a force of order and stability, representing progress and law. Civilizations bring about order. They tame the wildness of nature and bring peace and stability. The Empire does these things. It brings order to the chaos of the cosmos, and it does not waste its time with meaningless pleasantries. It does not inhibit itself with restricting rules, but rather does what it sees as necessary. For I have found that the ends justify the means Your Majesty, and if the end result is a society of security and peace, then I find ourselves justified in doing what we think is necessary to preserve that order. That is why I serve sir, because the Empire brings order to disorder."

An acceptable answer, if not a little too sentimental for my tastes. Perhaps in another life the good Admiral would have made a fine art critic.

"So you believe that the ends justify the means?" I ask.

"Unquestionably sir." He responds.

"You are indeed intelligent Admiral, and you raise sound points, but I am mildly surprised that one such as yourself would be so bold as to so openly discuss such things with me. Men with power greater than yours have suffered greatly for saying things less severe than you have Admiral."

He doesn't seem disturbed by this thinly veiled threat. How annoying, and yet, somewhat refreshing as well.

"If I am to continue my policy of being completely truthful with you Sire, I will say that I do not fear you. I do not love you, nor do I hate you. I do not covet that which you possess, nor do I seek to undermine you. The only thing that I hold toward you is respect. I respect your power and your intelligence. I respect your cunning nature and your ability to rise to the top of the proverbial pyramid. In my mind Your Majesty it would be the ultimate act of _disrespect_ if I was to lie to you or to sugarcoat things. Because that is what you need sir. You need people who tell you the truth. Sometimes the truth can be a bitter pill to swallow, but you cannot allow yourself to govern while you are influenced by your own ego. That is the path of ruination."

"Very well. You have convinced me Admiral. For future reference however, I have found that there is a difference between being blunt and being accurate. One can give an accurate assessment of a situation without being so brusque. You will find that others are much more open towards your proposals if you couch them within a modicum of tactfulness."

The Admiral takes the chastisement well. At least he doesn't squirm like the others when he is criticized. He actually seems to take what I say to heart. A valuable attribute to a servant.

"The Emperor is most wise of course, and may I thank you for reinstating me. I am as always most grateful for this opportunity to prove my worthiness."

"It must be quite difficult at times, given your…condition." I respond, referring of course to his decided alien features.

For the first time in the course of the conversation the Admiral allows himself a small smirk. "I have never seen my heritage as a Chiss to be a detriment to my service Your Highness. I always knew that as long as I performed my duties well and stayed in your good graces you would look past it."

"Really?" I ask.

"You are an enigma wrapped in a puzzle cloaked in shadows Emperor." Thrawn answers. "But I like to think that I know slightly more than the rest of the unwashed masses. Though the Empire's policies are inherently xenophobic, I have never seen you yourself as being inherently racist. You have in your employment several notable bigots; Pestage, Doriana, Tarkin, the list goes on, and each of them came to be in your service because they were of use to you. Each of them had valuable skills and plenty of political clout that aided your ascent greatly. But you are a politician sir, as are they, by and large. Politics, by its very nature is a trade of ebbs and flows, give and take. They gave you a great deal, and in exchange you gave them something back as a reward for their faithfulness. That something was a blank check that allowed them to put into law their own racist policies with your silent blessings."

For a moment Thrawn pauses and smiles again, as if he has just gotten the punch line to a joke.

"Nevertheless it would seem that you have benefited from their bigotry, despite not sharing their beliefs. The legalization of slavery and the harsh racial segregation laws seem to have served you well, increasing your own control of the entire population while simultaneously splitting them against each other, providing a scapegoat for society's problems in the form of alien impurity. It is a marvelous stroke and I commend you for it."

I offer an amused chuckle in response. "Such praise coming from the man who mere moments ago denounced my advisers as sycophants and suck ups!"

"The irony is not lost on me Sire."

"Very well then Admiral. Return to your ship. You will find your new assignment in your quarters. Hopefully this time you will actually follow your orders so that we can avoid further unpleasantness."

The Admiral bows at the waste and turns without a word.

Admiral Thrawn; what an interesting specimen.

Amongst my advisers he is quite unique. He thinks himself so above it all, above the quagmire of politics and the backstabbing inherent to the system. He sees these as vices, whereas I see them as virtues. It is necessary that those beneath me should back stab and fight amongst themselves in order to gain my favor, for such petty arguments keep those beneath me divided, and thus firmly under my control. Thrawn is a military man by nature, and so he does not expect those that are supposedly loyal and directly under his command to rise up and betray him.

Such oversight shall be the death of him I'm sure. Such a pity.

Despite his tactical genius it seems that he knows less than he should. He claims he does not fear me. He will in time. All come to fear me eventually.

But while I find his impudence aggravating I admit that his willingness to speak to me on unpleasant issues is quite invigorating. It inevitably becomes quite tiresome to have to listen to some fool genuflecting and prattling on about my greatness. At first it is quite enjoyable, being the center of such admiration, but after some time has passed it becomes tiresome and you just wish that they would just get to the point and stop wasting my time. Thrawn in this case is a bit of a breath of fresh air, seemingly eager to avoid pleasantries and just get down to business.

But I find that there is a certain arrogance to Thrawn that is quite unshakable. He truly does believe what he says, but he believes that there is no other way. His way is the right way, and there are no other options open and no alternatives given. Such a narrow minded point of view is frankly doomed. He is far to rational and logical, looking for patterns when at times there are none.

He expects the universe to have a certain rhythm to it and thinks that every living thing has a motivation, a goal, or a reason for doing that which they do.

I know better. Some people are not motivated by such logical things as money or power. People such as them cannot be analyzed or evaluated. They cannot be explained, and they cannot be bought, sold, intimidated or explained.

Some men just want to watch the world burn. Some men have no reason or purpose. They are not rational or predictable.

Given these things Thrawn could not hope to cope. He takes comfort in analysis and reasoning, so rational and sound in both mind and body that I do not think that he is capable of thinking irrationally. And that is his problem. In time he shall come across an enemy that he cannot decipher. He will not be able to understand them, and if he cannot understand them he cannot hope to beat them. For his sake I pray that he never comes across such an opponent, for it shall be on that day that Thrawn shall fail.

Hopefully though I will be able to tutor him in this field.

Yes, Admiral Thrawn deserves to have his career watched with great interest. He has the potential to be one of my greatest Admirals, indeed one of the greatest officers in the history of the Imperial Navy.

But he deserves watching as well. Thrawn is intelligent. He is shrewd and manipulative. For now he has no aspirations to overthrow me, but with an intellect as great as his the thought is sure to cross his mind.

For now I shall watch and wait.

I look forward to seeing what becomes of him.

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**The propaganda poster I mentioned is actually real. Just go onto Google images and type in Star Wars Imperial Propaganda. There are a lot of very excellent posters. Well hope you guys liked this. Until next time faithful readers **


	25. Strange Bedfellows

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_Look down ye gods and on this couple drop a blessed crown.-Gonzalo, the Tempest._

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"It was such a lovely ceremony, you really should have been there Mr. uh, Mr…"

"My name is not important, but I must thank you ever so much Minister for telling me about it, I always enjoyed weddings, even when I cannot attend I do love to hear about them."

"Well, I had best get going, I have a sermon in an hour, have a pleasant day."

"You as well." You miserable old fool.

It really is contemptible just how easy it is to addle the minds of those that are not blessed with the Force. It is as easy and as natural to me as breathing really. With but a small exertion of will I can alter my appearance in the eyes of others, making me completely unrecognizable even to those who should recognize me, making my task all the easier.

Another gift granted by the Force is the power of persuasion. Normally Naboo holy men are honor bound to keep marriages secret should the couple wish for it, but such promises are as empty and as hollow as the void itself when the power of the Darkside becomes involved. The conversation which just took place has been quite enlightening, not to mention amusing.

Anakin Skywalker and Padme Amidala have just gotten married.

That the two of them are a couple is not a surprise to me, not at all. It was I who put them in the prime position to get together afterall, but not even I would have thought that the relationship would have progressed so fast into actual marriage.

After all, they only just barely knew each other for a short time, then they were separated for over ten years, and then, after a mere couple of weeks of reunification they decided to get married.

Were they really both THAT desperate?

Apparently.

I had expected the relationship to take a little more time to blossom and develop, and so naturally I am surprised at the ease and speed with which things developed. It is not an undesirable notion, not at all. This suits my plans quite well actually. I'm just pleasantly surprised.

Then again their prospects weren't exactly what one would consider stellar. After all, he was a member of an Order that had forsworn all romantic relationships and attachments and she was a former Queen and Senator. No time for a love life with a busy schedule like that now is there?

They do have one thing in common though I suppose; they are both incredibly stunted when it comes to emotional development.

I've always found psychology to be a most fascinating subject, and I have no doubt that the minds of these two lovers would be the wet dream of any analyst.

Let us start with dear Senator Amidala, shall we? She is quite the consummate little politician, isn't she? She was always going on and on about duty, service, democracy etc. while surrounded by nothing but aids and bootlicking stooges. She didn't have much experience with romance aside from a rather disastrous courtship with one Senator Clovis, but the less said about that little fiasco the better. She was completely ignorant for the most part about how real relationships worked. To be honest I believe she got most of her knowledge on love from those dime a dozen holonovels that publishers insist on flooding the market with. It is a rather dull and sterile environment, the world of politics, especially if you are an honest politician (dishonest politicians being a completely different story. Oh the tales I could tell about Orn Free Ta and those red skinned Twi'lek girls would make even the coarsest fiend blush.) so naturally she sought a little excitement for her increasingly dreary life.

And of course there is Anakin. Oh Anakin, you messed up little twit, whatever are we to do with you? The only real female contact he ever had was with his mother. The Jedi that just so happened to be female don't really count, since most Jedi are practically asexual to begin with. So he had absolutely no experience with love at all. The feelings he developed for her were warped and unfamiliar. He had no way of really knowing what he was going through.

The worst part of course were the conversations, if they can be called that. One of the benefits of being the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic is that you have access to a virtually unlimited network of spies and saboteurs. It was relatively easy for me to have my agents bug Senator Amidala's quarters, both on Coruscant and at the Lake House on Naboo.

Goodness gracious, these two are absolutely pathetic to watch and hear. It seems that Padme wasn't the only one secretly reading bad romance fiction.

"When I'm around you, my mind is no longer my own."

"Anakin: If you are suffering as much as I am, please tell me.

Padme: I can't... We can't... It's not possible.

Anakin: Anything is possible, Padme, listen to me.

Padme: No you listen! We live in a real world, come back to it. You're studying to become a Jedi, I'm... I'm a senator. If you follow your thoughts through to conclusion, it will take us to a place we cannot go, regardless of the way we feel about each other.

Anakin: Then you do feel something!

Padme: I will not let you give up your future for me.

Anakin: You're asking me to be rational. That is something that I know I cannot do. Believe me, I wish I could just wish away my feelings, but I can't."

Who talks like this? This has to be the most amusingly awful conversation that I have heard in a long time, and I once sat through a speech given by Jar Jar Binks! How could these two possibly fall for one another so quickly given such horrendous speech? Though I do admit that their value as entertainment just for the sheer wretchedness of it all is worth its weight in gold. If it wasn't for the fact that they were my inferior subordinates I would surely invite Pestage and Amedda over to my apartment to watch and listen to them completely butcher the spoken language with their cliche pick up lines. Oh well, more popcorn for me.

And their personalities! By the Force, how can they stand one another? Anakin, powerful though he is has the mental capacity of a spoiled nine year old. He is stubborn, petulant, kvetching, possessive, self-absorbed, and frankly he doesn't have much in the common sense department. Which is all fine for me, it makes it quite easier to lead him on the path that I want him to tread. But how could any woman find this man's personality appealing?

Speaking of women and personality (or in this case lack thereof) we have Senator Amidala. For some reason I seem to loath her more personality wise than I do Anakin, perhaps because Skywalker is actually useful to me in my long term plans, while Amidala is only slightly useful in the short term. Never in my time in power though have I ever encountered a more naïve, self-righteous, preachy, taciturn individual. How can he stand such a demanding and stubborn woman?

Now that I give it further thought it is a miracle that my plan to get these two together actually worked so well. I amaze even myself I suppose. But how can two rational, sane human beings actually come to like each other when their personalities are so extreme?

With Anakin the answer is relatively straightforward; he is an obsessive sociopath in the making so desperate for affection and companionship that he would probably kill someone to get it (at least, that is what I am counting on.)

But Amidala, Amidala is a little more complicated. Is she lonely? Yes? Does she want affection and companionship? Of course. But I think that her little decision to marry Skywalker was aided along by two key factors; pity and desperation. The pity was reserved of course for Anakin, the poor fool. So desperate to please, constantly downtrodden, the glorified chew toy of life and plaything of the Force. How could you not pity that? I don't, but then again I'm not most people. Perhaps she mistook her pity for affection.

But the desperation, the desperation was all her own. She was alone, even in a crowd she was always alone. She had decided early on that her career came first. And so she sacrificed potential relationships in order to do her duty. And of course she became consumed by her work, unavailable to friends and family, unwilling to make the time to find love. The prime of youth passed her by without her really recognizing it, but deep down in her subconscious I know that she knew. She let opportunities pass through her fingertips. Men came and went, and she ignored them all. Only now did she recognize that she had wasted her time. Only now did she realize the magnitude of her exile from the rest of us.

She had built up a moat around herself without anyone to call friend. She had acquaintances of course, people she called friends. She had guards, allies and handmaidens that she was fond of, but the nature of her work and their work resulted in a relationship with others that was cold and arms-length at best.

Misery makes for strange bedfellows it would seem.

They were both alone, and the two of them recognized the depth of their loneliness, and deep down inside they despaired.

Perhaps they saw in one another a kindred spirit, perhaps they saw in one another their own lives and their own experiences. Or perhaps their standards were practically non-existent, thus warranting the two of them throwing caution to the wind. And maybe, just maybe, they got together because of the thrill of defying the standard hierarchy of things. Senators are not supposed to have affairs with Jedi, and Jedi do not have relationships at all. Their marriage is a rebellion against how society has dictated their stations in life to be. Perhaps the consummate politician and the Chosen Jedi got a little sick and tired of being paragons of virtue and honesty. Perhaps, deep within their very souls they craved a little corruption. Perhaps they yearned for each others touch because they desired the touch of darkness. What a delicious thought.

It makes one wonder though. How long could such a relationship last? How long could this animalistic lust keep the fire of passion going? Let us assume that my plans do not factor into the subject and these two lovebirds were free to live their secret little life together. How long could it last? If I had to guess it would be anywhere between five and ten years before the entire relationship fell apart.

That is the ultimate irony it seems. Since the dawn of civilization itself it seems as if practically every living creature has sought out this thing we call love. But there is no love. It is an illusion. It does not exist. We fabricated it in order to justify our actions.

Love is the greatest lie ever told in the history of civilization.

The reason people form relationships is nothing more than a biological process left over from our evolutionary ancestors that drives us to pass on our genetic material. The reason most people stay together after this process is finished is simply due to the indecipherable concept that most people are afraid of living and inevitably dying alone.

I never understood such irrational fears. There is nothing inherently wrong with the state of being alone. And yet people seem completely transfixed with and horrified at the notion of being alone for long stretches of time. Perhaps that is why we all fear death, for no one really knows for sure what is on the other side, and you can't bring others with you on that journey into the beyond.

Even when they were with groups of other people they were alone. They both think that no one but each other truly understands or appreciates them. They have always been alone. And now they take solace in the fact that they can be alone together. But the joy brought to them by matrimonial bliss shall be short lived. Anakin is possessive by nature. He has already lost his dear mother, and now he is desperate to save that which he claims to love above all else; his dear wife. His selfish desire of her is his greatest weakness, a weakness that I shall use to great effect in the next few years.

From the bottom of my black heart I offer my sincerest congratulations to the newlyweds, though for necessity's sake I must refrain from revealing to them that I have uncovered their darkest secret.

Look down ye gods and on this couple drop a blessed crown. But know that this joy is fleeting. In time your love shall shrivel and die as your meaner faculties take root. Then, and only then shall you come to me, desperately begging for a means to preserve that which you desire above all. And then, I, the man who by Providence divine united you shall divide you forever more, thus breaking the bonds of affection and binding you in chains to my service.

What you see as a brand new beginning is nothing more than the start of the end.

Oh, and have a pleasant honeymoon.

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**Last week my University put on a production of the Tempest that I really enjoyed (I went three times). But the one thing that always stuck with me the wrong way was the idea that Miranda and Ferdinand got together and decided to get married after only knowing each other for less than three hours. This seems to be a re occurring theme in fiction, with characters ending up together automatically instead of having the relationship build naturally. So I thought that I would apply that to Star Wars and to the famous (some would argue infamous) relationship between Anakin and Padme. I took a small amount of liberty with the amount of time they were together. We were never told just how long Anakin was playing bodyguard on Naboo, but I like to think that they spent at least two or three weeks together before deciding, "what the hell, lets get married!" As an aside massive props to the old lord Gonzalo. Keep on doing what you are doing man.**


	26. Inspecting the Troops

**Shadowwingwitch- Good to hear from you. Welcome to the review section.**

**Steven- Are you sure about that? If I ever hear another "Story from my people" line again I swear someone is going to get a face full of phaser. I can't help but feel sorry for Robert Beltran who played Chakotay though. He really did hate his job and realized that it was so stupid. I know it is cliche, but I blame Berman and Braga. Thanks for running Star Trek into the ground guys. For more of my feelings on Voyager, please check out the online reviewer Sfdebris, whose informative yet funny reviews pretty much fall in line with my own opinions on Voyager.**

**Dark Kronus- Thanks for the review. I have already written a short story on that duel that you may find interesting called the Tragedy of Darth Tyranus the Fool. Maybe you will like it.**

**Ashla- Perhaps you did. I will say this and only this. The man is a genius when it comes to ideas, but he is less adept with actual human speech processes.**

**Chocolate Teapot- Thank you for the feedback. My spell check device doesn't seem to pick stuff up like that. **

**Loteva- As always your reviews are greatly appreciated.**

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Suspended in a warm liquid is an even warmer shape, curled into the fetal position, its eyes closed. It is at rest, it is at peace, its mind, simple though it may be, is devoid of any great cares or worries. It is a child, a baby at that, what many would consider a miracle of creation. It is resting now, its thumb in its mouth as it dreams some inarticulate dream.

It is ironic that this seemingly innocent child should be destined to mature into an agent of destruction.

My eyes shift about in their sockets as I take in the glorious view in front of me. For this child is not alone. Its brothers find themselves in similar states, sealed away in glass eggs just waiting to be hatched and unleashed. There are hundreds of them in this room alone. Throughout this facility, in facilities across this entire planet children are grown in tanks to grow up and become obedient killers.

They are, at this moment, all empty shells; blank slates waiting eagerly to be filled with great ideas and given a purpose.

My ideas. My purpose.

My sources inform me that the Jedi were most uncomfortable in this room. After all, places such as these are sacrilege to a Jedi.

The Jedi value life and the process of creation to the point where it is one of the most sacred parts of their ideology. To grow sentient creatures solely for the purpose of murder is an abomination in their eyes. But what can they do? In a galaxy at war where the very future of the Republic is at stake the use of clones is a moral sin in their eyes, but an acceptable evil nevertheless when compared with the grisly alternatives they see.

But is it is not the nature of the Darkside to take that which is sacred and precious to the Light and pervert it into something that it is not meant to be? If this is so then I find this room to be quite the wonderful place, for nothing is as just and right as the twisting of Jedi values into serving the Sith.

I find myself surrounded by military aides and slender, long necked scientists.

Kaminoans, some of the greatest geneticists in the galaxy, responsible for the creation of my army, the most critical aspect of my plans.

My purpose here is relatively simple, to inspect the facilities that have given the new Grand Army life. Thus far everything has met with my approval.

We move on from the nursery (though the term hatchery would seem much more accurate given the circumstances) and move on to other rooms. I observe a live fire combat training session, an indoctrination center and a simple meal room. But the final destination is by far my favorite. It is the culmination of decades of work, both for the Kaminoans and for myself. Here we see the clones, genetically engineered killing machines bedecked in the finest armor that money can buy. As one they march forward with lockstep conformity across the parade ground, the sound of their footsteps pounding on the cold floor beneath them. They march towards their awaiting transports that shall carry them off into the galaxy itself.

"Magnificent" Lama Su, the Prime Minister of Kamino whispers to himself. I allow myself an opportunity to role my eyes while he is busy staring at his creations. And they are indeed magnificent. They shall become the backbone of my new empire. Of course the new empire shall be made up of recruits and conscripts rather than clones, but the clones shall continue to serve as a core group of dedicated and loyal troopers that shall enforce my iron will.

But back to the Kaminoans and their pride in this army they have so painstakingly created. It is no secret that the Grand Army is seen by the Kaminoans as the greatest of their creations, a crowning achievement that has put their species and their homeworld on the galactic map. Before the contract for the Grand Army had come along the Kaminoans had gotten by cloning livestock for farmers and organs for hospitals. But this, this army of theirs was the opportunity they had long dreamed for.

In their minds the clones are genetic perfection, the ultimate weapon for the ultimate war, bred to be the best when it comes to perseverance and murder.

It is the ultimate irony I suppose that the greatest army the galaxy has ever seen dedicated to fighting the bloodiest war was created by a Jedi, one Sifo-Dyas. Sifo-Dyas was a fool, plain and simple. A well-meaning but bumbling Jedi who was so utterly pathetic that not even his fellow Jedi fully took him seriously. He was a person prone to worry and overreaction. Deep down I think they really pitied him. And so it was only natural that when he came into the Council Chambers ranting and raving about a coming darkness the Council dismissed him.

That was his first mistake. Sifo-Dyas, rather than gathering evidence to support his precognitive visions of doom went and made a fool of himself, resulting in the refusal of the Council to take any of his subsequent findings seriously.

His second mistake of course was actually deciding to create the clone army. It made sense from a certain point of view I suppose. If he started recruiting regular citizens for an army he would have been discovered quickly. Building a droid army would have cost a great deal of money and resources that would have been missed or noticed. But clones, ah clones would do the trick just nicely. Kamino was a practically unheard of world before the war, far off of the beaten path. All he needed was a little bit of start up money.

And that was his third mistake. Sifo-Dyas not only became convinced of the coming darkness, but was obsessed with it. It was all that he could think of. Such obsessions left his mind open to suggestion and persuasion. In enters my old teacher, Lord Plagueis under the guise of Magister Hego Damask who first approached Dyas with the idea of a clone army. It was Plagueis who convinced Dyas that the clone army would be absolutely necessary and it was Plagueis who provided Dyas with the funds to make the army a reality.

His fourth mistake though was his implicit trust in Dooku. Dyas was the most hopeless of Jedi idealists, believing not only in the Republic, but believing that Dooku was his friend. But Dooku has never had friends. Even during his time as a Jedi Dooku only ever had acquaintances and allies, but never friends. Friends were a weakness that he could not afford. And so Dooku, being the shrewd manipulator that he is took advantage of Dyas and his trusting nature. Dyas was indeed the perfect cover. To have a Jedi Master approach them with the contract for the clone army was more than enough for the Kaminoans to take the offer as legitimate. After the purchase was made it was easy enough for Dooku to have Dyas murdered and to take control of the Clone operation under the guise of Lord Tyranus.

I feel that the greatest and indeed the most rewarding aspect of the Grand Plan was the fact that the Jedi, in their attempts to save the Republic from the Sith have only wound up aiding our plot. Sifo-Dyas sought to create an army for the Republic to fight against the coming darkness. But that very army fights not against the Sith, but for the Sith. And the Jedi lead them. The Jedi lead the very forces that shall be their downfall. This army has allowed me to tighten my grip over the galaxy and to crush any and all persons in the galaxy that could hope to oppose me at the present time. This army has become a symbol of my power and a tool that shall allow me to remain in control of the galaxy long after this war has come to an end.

It is an incredibly simplistic thing, the mind of a clone. They are filled to the brim with ideas like loyalty and honor, duty and service. It is true that at the moment most of the clones love the Jedi, much as a pet loves its caring master. For the Jedi are amongst the only beings in the universe that treat the clones as people.

But the clones are not people. For you see, people do not have switches within the depths of their mind that make them do certain things, certain things that any clone would deny ever contemplating, let alone carry out.

Since the moment of conception in their gestation tanks the clones have been subtly conditioned to obey. For now they obey the Jedi, but there is one person above all that they care for, a person who stands above them as an idol of devotion and loyalty.

That person is the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic; me.

The clones would gladly turn their guns on their own brothers should I order them to (though the thought would be repellent to them in any other situation). They are loyal to me, and by extension to the Jedi, for the Jedi serve the Senate and its leader (me) and operate with our blessings. But should the Jedi find themselves at odds with the Chancellor, the clones will side with me.

In the end these clones marching off to battle shall be the ultimate Jedi trap. On worlds across the galaxy from Coruscant to Mon Calamari and from Mygeeto to Mustafar the Jedi and their clone comrades are stretched out in a vain attempt to contain and eventually role-back the Separatist advance. The Order has been stretched very thinly in the last few years as casualties mount higher and higher. At this point for every theater of the war there can only be one or two Jedi assigned. Only one or two Jedi, surrounded by thousands of clones.

Not even the Jedi, powerful warriors though they are, could survive an onslaught against thousands of clones.

What makes clones the most optimal Jedi slayers though is not their preprogrammed loyalty to me. Any droid could be programmed with loyalty. No, the greatest thing about the clones is that, when the time inevitably comes to purge the galaxy of the infestation known as the Jedi, most of them will never know what hit them. For the clones are not normal men. They do not hate the Jedi, they never have, and they won't hate the Jedi when they pull the trigger and gun their Generals down in a hail of plasma. The Jedi will never sense a single iota of hatred or distrust.

As far as the clones are concerned, they are simply following orders. And the clones know how to make sure that these orders are carried out. They are just intelligent enough to adapt and evolve, learning about their Jedi commanders and the weaknesses they possess that can be exploited.

But one wonders, what will become of the clones in the aftermath of the coming purge? Will they try to rationalize their actions? Will some be glad that they killed the Jedi? Or will some of them despair? Will a few of them recognize that they murdered their only friends in this galaxy, and the only thing that shielded them from a harsh and unforgiving universe? Will they recognize that they slaughtered their greatest friends for nothing? Will they realize how deeply and thoroughly they have been used?

I for one could not care less how they feel afterwards so long as they follow their orders to the letter. Serve or die, it concerns me not. That is their only purpose in this universe, to serve and to die.

As the transports lift off into the upper atmosphere with their troopers aboard bound for the front I know that they will serve me well. Time is growing short. The end is rapidly approaching.

A new era awaits us all.

The clones will do their duty well.


	27. Apocalypse

_The center cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world._

All is consumed in fire and pitch, the flames leap up with joy and devour innocent and guilty alike. The hellfire of war spreads with abandon as armies rip and slash at one another with abandon. Buildings collapse and explode and men are crushed beneath vehicles that rush to join in the blood sport. Above the howl of guns and the shrieks of missiles there exists the screams of the dying and the wounded, only to be drowned out and ignored amongst the noise that permeates the air. It is all coming apart. It is all dying and collapsing and imploding around us. Nothing lasts forever. The bonds that once tied us together have been torn asunder. Love and understanding have died an ignoble death, mourned by few as hate has risen from the ashes. Everything crumbles.

Everything burns.

Chaos builds and mayhem grows, climbing higher and higher to a fevered pitch. Surely such madness shall culminate in the end of the universe itself!

And it will. For,

_This is the way the world shall end, this is the way the world shall end, this is the way the world shall end, not with a bang, but a whimper._

The apogee of this conflagration shall bring the galaxy as we know it to an end. Just not exactly the way we had expected it. The grand finale shall be, in comparison to the show itself, something of an anticlimax.

It shall nevertheless be a satisfying conclusion.

In this time, in this place there is an oasis of darkness and calm, uninterrupted by the noise and the pain and the fear. It is from this place that the end shall come.

_The best lack all conviction, while the worst are full of passionate intensity._

They have spent these many years wandering in darkness, stumbling through the fog and choking on the smoke as they desperately try and make sense of the changing universe around them. For centuries they sat in their high towers looking down from up above, passing their judgments and enforcing their edicts. Calcified and rigid, they sought to enforce continuity and maintain their own power and the power of their masters. They did so with empty hearts, doing what they did because they believed it to be right. They meandered about for years without real direction and real purpose, unknowingly in the service of those they despised the most.

How far the mighty hath fallen, and how farther yet they have to go.

And I?

I have waited patiently for this night, for tonight is the culmination of a life-long ambition and a millennium of planning.

Night has fallen upon Coruscant, and soon night shall fall upon the entire galaxy.

The Revenge of the Sith begins now.

All it takes is a minor application of pressure to press the button that activates the final link in the chain that is the Sith Grand Plan.

This link is nothing more than a simple holographic communications device, but it is more than that. It is the master signal, the switch that shall set everything in motion. Oh to hold such power in my hands with such a simple device!

The button is pressed and a direct link is made to the front lines. A blue ghost appears on the pad, standing by, obediently waiting for my orders.

"Commander Cody, the time has come. Execute Order 66."

"It will be done my Lord." The commander obediently replies. The link is cut.

The process repeats itself once or twice as various commanders are contacted individually. There are certain targets that must be taken out quickly that have priority over the rest. We cannot risk the most powerful Jedi sensing the demise of their comrades, and so we must annihilate them first. Then, when the high profile targets are dealt with a general transmission is broadcast to the entire army. Every clone stretched out across one hundred thousand worlds receives the transmission.

"Execute Order 66."

They know what to do.

The tendrils of the Darkside reach out into the galaxy, and I see without seeing. I know without knowing. I have a front row seat to a performance that I have waited a lifetime to see.

* * *

**Mygeeto**

It is cold and the wind and the snow sting the face. I can see it now. I can almost feel it. A valiant frontal assault is taking place. A noble Jedi Master covers his troops by deflecting enemy fire back from whence it came.

"Come on." He rushes forward, his loyal soldiers rush forward behind him, ready to face the foe. But they stop, and raise their weapons.

The Jedi turns. Why have they stopped? They must press forward or they shall surely be overrun in the next counterattack. Why are their rifles raised? Why are they pointed at _me_?

As one they open fire. It doesn't make sense. What has gotten into them? Three bolts are deflected.

One hits him in the shoulder.

Then another in the chest.

And another in the stomach.

Ki Adi Mundi falls face first to the snow covered ground. He is dead before he hits the snow.

* * *

**Felucia**

A simple jungle patrol on the search for leftover pockets of Separatist resistance. Aayla Secura leads from the front, as most Jedi do. Her senses are active, her eyes peeled as she looks for the enemy.

But the enemy is not in front of her.

The enemy is behind her.

Her own troops form a semi-circle behind her and raise their weapons. She reacts a moment too late. She tries to turn around to confront them, but she doesn't even have time to activate her lightsaber before the bolt slams into her back. More follow as she falls to the jungle floor. Her body is riddled with plasma burns as her once loyal comrades unload their magazines into their general's back. They know what she is capable of, but that is not why they continue to shoot.

They all loved her as a little brother loves their older sister. She was always there for them. She was always kind to them. She has always been there for them. And that is why they continue to shoot her corpse. They want to make absolutely sure that she is dead.

Because they know in the depths of their hearts that they could never look her in the eyes while she still drew breath.

Not after this.

* * *

**Cato Neimodia**

In the skies of an alien world there flies an angel in an iron chariot zooms over the cities below. He is a watchful guardian on patrol, constantly vigilant for signs of the enemy that he knows still lurks on this planet.

The enemy you know of is easy to uncover though.

The unknown enemy lurks in the shadows in forms unfamiliar to your sight, and can at times take upon themselves the visage of a friend. Green fire rips through the skies and an angel finds his wings clipped.

Plo Koon falls forever, with nothing to greet him but the inferno, and then sweet oblivion.

* * *

**Saleucami **

The killing fields of Saleucami have finally gone silent. A world that was once the sight of one of the bloodiest and most protracted battles of the war, now it is nothing more than a graveyard for the dead and a shattered shell for its native inhabitants to rebuild. The only creatures that have prospered on that beleaguered world have been the birds that have feasted on the carcasses of the dead. All seems to finally be at peace.

But Saleucami has yet to exact her full pound of flesh. General Stass Allie is on the move to her command center from an altercation in the wilderness. She is alone, save for her escort of two clone soldiers.

There is an old hypothetical question that my philosophy teacher was fond of asking; if a tree falls in the middle of a forest and no one is around to hear, does it make a sound?

One could postulate that the same question can be asked of this situation. If you scream in the wilderness with no one but your killers to hear you, do you make a sound?

Blasterbolts rip into flesh and metal, causing the bike beneath her to explode in a fireball that careens out of control and sends the charred body of Stass Allie into the waters below. The clones fly onwards without turning back, for they know that no one could have survived that. The birds fly away, squawking and cawing, but they will return.

War has been good to them, and for the first time in nearly a week they will have fresh meat that has been cooked to perfection.

* * *

_We are the hollow men_

_We are the stuffed men_

_Leaning together_

_Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!_

_Our dried voices, when_

_We whisper together_

_Are quiet and meaningless_

_As wind in dry grass_

_Or rats' feet over broken glass_

_In our dry cellar_

_Shape without form, shade without colour,_

_Paralysed force, gesture without motion;_

From every star and every world a cry rips from every throat. The Light howls and screams in agony as it wretches in its death throes, but its protestations are soundly ignored. Its devoted servants are falling into extinction. At long last the Jedi shall become no more. There is no stopping that which has been started. Soon all the galaxy shall see them for what they were.

Everything that they were was hollow and meaningless. Their words were delusional platitudes that signified nothing. Their actions were futile, their striving inconsequential. Their ideology and all that they held to be sacred signified nothing. They lived for a lie, a lie called compassion.

Justice.

Peace.

Morality.

Freedom.

It means nothing. It never has, it never will.

They fought for a dream that never existed, bound and restricted by a petty bureaucracy that inhibited them and prevented them from being proactive or helpful. Their existence was irrelevant.

As their lives were irrelevant, let their deaths be the same.

There shall be no glorious last stand. There shall be no rallying cry. There shall be no hope. There is only an inglorious rout, a slaughter of humiliating and crushing defeat. In this hour of annihilation everything that they held sacred has been revealed for the lies that they were.

There is no peace, there is only the emotions of terror, despair and hatred.

There is no knowledge, there is only the ignorance brought about by the deception of the Sith.

There is no serenity, only the passion that has driven me to annihilate those I despise.

There is no harmony, only chaos and death.

There is death and pain, and this time the Force cannot and will not save them.

Nowhere can this be made more evident than here on Coruscant.

Here their high tower has been brought tumbling down.

The gates that held the barbarians at bay have been broken open.

Statues lie shattered and overturned.

The Archives which held the sum of their knowledge have been ransacked.

The halls are littered with corpses.

Here all memory of a Jedi's training is forgotten. All that is left is the madness of battle and the desperation to survive, though most know that they will not endure.

In the highest tower there are screams and tears and blood and fear. Children cry and beg for mercy, beg for intervention, beg for a reprieve.

They are answered only with the swing of a sapphire blade of plasma as it hacks through their flesh and bone.

The Jedi Order lies in ruins.

The old order lies trampled at my feet.

The old world is dead.

But some still live. A few have survived the opening salvo.

My counterpart is amongst them. Yoda has survived his altercation on Kashyyk as I knew he would. I had hoped that Yoda would survive. No clone could ever kill the Grand Master of the Jedi Order.

That honor belongs to me.

He shall seek me out. I know this to be true. And then I shall have the pleasure of ending his meaningless life.

_And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,_

_Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?_

At long last the Jedi are no more. An age twenty five thousand years old is finally at an end.

My New Order is awaiting. A brave new world waiting to be ruled, a promised land where the Sith are finally supreme. I will lead the people to this new land, and I shall be their savior. Let the people sing fearful hosannas to me, their new Dark Lord and Emperor who led them out of the quagmire of war. Let them revere me for the wonder that I am. Let them recognize my genius.

Victory is mine.

The Sith have had their revenge, and it is magnificent.

_Between the desire_

_And the spasm_

_Between the potency_

_And the existence_

_Between the essence_

_And the descent_

_Falls the Shadow_

* * *

**Special credit goes to William Butler Yeats and T.S. Elliot for their magnificent poems that inspired this chapter. Please Leave a Review!**


	28. The Show Must Go On!

**Darth Rabbits- Glad you like things so far.**

**Ashla- Glad you liked it. I felt it had to be magnanimous and apocalyptic given the circumstances.**

**Jepsie- That's fine. I'm glad you still enjoyed it though. Maybe this will be more to your liking. I just felt that I had to be a little bombastic and classical given the circumstances of what I was writing.  
**

**Chocolate Teapot- As always I am deeply appreciative of you pointing this out. My spell check is very terrible apparently. I only reread twice before publishing.**

**Loteva- Glad you enjoyed it.**

**Special inspiration for this chapter came from my loyal reviewers and from the opening scene of the British TV series House of Cards. I highly recommend it. It is absolutely captivating. As an aside I am starting to run a little low on inspiration for this story. I still have some ideas, but I am starting to run out of new material. So, within the confines of a character study, if you guys could send some suggestions it would be greatly appreciated. Please leave a review.**

* * *

The room is cavernous and dark, darker than usual. For the first time in what feels like an eternity the great black doors to this room open and a solitary figure enters. The only source of light comes from the hall. Footsteps echo throughout the room and reverberate across ceilings and walls. Such a disturbance is unwelcome and unseemly. The room has been darkened out of respect for the man who once inhabited this room.

Onwards, deeper and deeper into this room the man treads, his purple robes sweeping across the floor as he reaches is objective.

The man approaches a chair sitting at the end of the black room in front of a large window that has been draped over with black cloth.

The chair itself is covered in a shroud as black as the abyss.

But this isn't an ordinary chair, nor is this an ordinary room. Nor are these ordinary circumstances.

This is the throne of the Emperor, and this is his throne room.

At least, it was.

The man turns his eyes to the curtain and pulls them down, allowing the light to flood the room once more. It is a dim light, a sickly light that seeks to gain entrance into this, the Emperor's sanctum sanctorum.

The man then walks back to the throne and stares at it, eyeing it almost warily.

With a single, shaking hand the man reaches out, as if fearful that the throne shall leap up and bite him. Finding his courage the man grabs the black shroud and pulls it away, revealing that which it covered.

The throne of His Majesty the Emperor, Palpatine.

But it is not his throne anymore.

The Emperor is dead.

Dead.

Dead.

Dead?

A week has passed since the Emperor's demise, and still the thought of it is practically inconceivable. The end of an era, cut short far too soon. Even now, two weeks after his passing the pain is still fresh in the hearts and minds of many. The man's mind is filled with thoughts, memories and ideas.

It has all gone by so fast. When word had first gotten back to the Capital that His Majesty had died, no one could, or indeed would believe it. The Emperor dead? It was inconceivable!

It wasn't possible.

He had been around so long.

He was the only constant in our lives. Individual men came and went with the passing of time but the Emperor was eternal. He was the cornerstone upon which the New Order was built. He was our leader, our father, our savior.

And now he is gone. Why did you leave your devoted servants behind Sire?

When the reality of the situation finally sank in and the truth became unavoidable, many an imperial asked themselves that question.

Some even sought to join their Master in death, no longer seeing a point to living in a galaxy where there was no Palpatine.

Weak fools the lot of them. His Majesty always detested those who went to pieces in a crisis. If he was still here he would berate them as fools. They still had a duty to the Empire that needed to be carried out whether the Emperor was alive or not.

The Empire, what will become of it now?

The Empire was the Emperor's legacy. He was the beating heart of the Empire. He breathed life into it and gave it purpose and direction.

But now that beating heart is still.

The Rebels did this. They took him from us. And now everything that he built is coming apart.

Without the Emperor's unifying presence worlds have begun to secede with impunity. The military is in chaos. No one knows who is in charge. Moffs and Admirals have been declaring themselves the new lords of their own personal fiefdoms, carving up the Empire that they had sworn to protect.

The Emperor died without an heir, and he died without declaring a successor, which only made sense if one gave the subject some thought. If the Emperor had declared an official successor than he would only have signed his own death warrant. Any successor in a system like this would have worked hard to have the Emperor killed so that he could attain his position early.

It is, after all, what he would have expected. It is, after all, what he would have done had he been in such a position.

Unofficially though I knew why the Emperor never wanted a successor; he wouldn't have needed one. He had been so close, so close to attaining the secrets of immortality that would have allowed him to rule for all of eternity.

I should know; I was the one who helped him to discover the artifacts that led him on his path for ultimate power.

I was His Majesty's closest confidante. He could confide in me almost anything at all, even the deepest and most arcane knowledge of the Sith. After all, there was no potential harm in telling me such dark secrets, for I did not possess the potential to use that knowledge against him.

One could even argue that I am the only person who ever fully knew him. I am proud to know that of all of his allies and associates that he ever had, I was the only one who fully understood him.

Palpatine was beholden to no one. In his life there only existed one type of person or object; those who possessed potential usefulness to himself. Anything or anyone else who did not fit into this category was systematically dealt with. I am honored to say that I fell into this category of usefulness, and I am even further honored to say that I was his instrument, by which those that needed to be dealt with were dealt with.

I was the Emperor's right hand, his angel of vengeance as it were. I swooped down behind the scenes and dealt with those who needed to be dealt with. I was much like a surgeon's scalpel, effortlessly and subtly slicing away those appendages that posed a threat to the body politic. I was his enforcer as well. From the days when I was merely a Senators aide to the time when I was Personal assistant to the Chancellor to the present I was his Lieutenant, putting a bit of stick about in order to keep the troops in line with official Imperial policy. Whenever there was a problem, be it an unruly Senator or a discontented Minister it was my job to streamline the process of governing and ensure that His Majesty's agenda got through come hell or high water.

I was also his guardian angel as well. It was my duty, my purpose to protect him from the outside world. I screened his calls, deflected all criticism away from his office, dealt with his rivals, assassinated his enemies, stamped out sedition, and even tasted his food for poison.

He valued my loyalty. Good, dependable help is so very often difficult to find. I was his co conspirator as well. In many ways the Empire that he created and maintained was the fruit of my labor just as much as it was his. I liked to think that we were partners in a sense, unequal partners to be sure, but partners nonetheless.

We both shared a glorious vision of the future; a vision of order and power, a vision of a galaxy indivisible, answerable only to one supreme authority, an authority that knew how to rule and how to keep the rabble in line.

Such a vision he shared with me early on, shortly after I had discovered his secret Sith affiliations when he was still a Senator. It was an intoxicating vision, and it was then that I knew.

Had any other man spoke to me of such a vision I would have laughed at them then and there.

Overthrow the Republic? Kill all of the Jedi? Establish an _Empire_? Such ideas would surely be the signs of a delusional mad man!

But this Palpatine was different. Even now, so many years after that conversation took place I can remember it clear as day. I saw in his eyes a coldness, a ruthless conviction that proclaimed to the universe that nothing could stop him.

If any mortal creature could accomplish such a task I was convinced in that moment that Palpatine could. I joined his cause and pledged my life to his service.

He rewarded me well for my loyalty.

In my time at his side I achieved power beyond my wildest imaginings. Everything was at my beck and call. Nothing was impossible. Palpatine had made it possible.

We had much in common, the two of us. We had both sought to court that woman we call power, with varying degrees of success. We both believed in the power of fear and the effectiveness of the truncheon. We saw before us endless realms of opportunity, and we both decided that we would not be satisfied until we had achieved all that could be achieved.

We were both intelligent men, above and beyond those insignificant vermin that populated the galaxy and polluted it with their ignorance and impurity. We were cut from a finer cloth. We saw the universe for what it was and we recognized the path that needed to be followed in order to achieve unlimited power.

In the end I think I was the closest thing to a friend he ever had. He never had much use for such foolish things, and frankly neither did I. But I like to think that we had a sense of mutual understanding and respect for one another that could be construed by some as being friendship. We didn't detest one another, that is for sure. Perhaps that is what friendship is, simply not detesting someone. I wouldn't really know. I've never really liked anyone.

We understood one another though. I realized that I was his servant. Never once did I delude myself into believing that I was his equal. And he of course understood that I was loyal to his cause and useful to his realizing the grand vision that we both sought to bring about.

Above all though I appreciated his truthfulness. What endeared me most to the cause of the Emperor was that, frankly put, he never tried to delude himself. Many a dictator has believed that he was creating a revolution to improve the lot of the people and that he was doing that which he did on purely selfless grounds that sought only to benefit all of sentientkind.

Palpatine believed this only to a small extent. But this would merely be a trickle down side-effect of what he really wanted.

Palpatine wanted power. He yearned for control and coveted order, an order imposed by him and him alone. He sought to impose his will upon a meaningless creation and re organize not only the government, but society and the very laws of nature and physics so that they would revolve around him. As a minor byproduct of this he believed that the galaxy would finally know peace. He used the truth selectively by taking things out context and presenting them from a different point of view, misleading those around him into believing anything that he wanted them to. He never told a lie. He just omitted that which needed to be with held and manipulate the facts to suit his agenda.

His Majesty's first and primary goal was to further his own cause. He was loyal to no living thing and held allegiance to no flag or nation. He was out for himself and he had the intellect and the tenacity to get what he wanted. I admired his strength and skill. I admired his glorious vision.

He was the architect who built the Empire from the ground up and reshaped the galaxy in the furnaces of war, molding the stars themselves in his own image. How could anyone not be drawn to such great power?

And now it is all coming apart. The Empire is tearing itself apart, disintegrating as the Rebels and their allies tug at the threads of Imperial strength, causing everything to unravel and disintegrate.

The Empire is dying of sorrow, the orphaned child whose father has died long before his time. We have no direction, no inspiration, no shining light to guide us. We are powerless in the face of such despair.

Without power, one dies.

My musings are interrupted by the sharp clacking of jackboots on the floor. The Director of Imperial Intelligence has just entered the room, her face contorted into a contemptuous scowl. It has become unofficial dogma to leave the Emperor's throne room empty with the window covered up and the throne covered in a shroud. We do this out of mourning for the great man whose loss has affected us all. To have entered this room and removed the shroud to the throne is tantamount to heresy. She dispenses with any pleasantries and skips directly to the point.

"Grand Vizier, the Rebels have launched a major offensive in the Southern Outer Rim. Command and control over all military forces in Oversector Outer are on the verge of collapse. If something isn't done to organize the fleet we will lose the whole of the Outer Rim Territories by the end of the year!"

I stare at her for a moment, and then I do the unthinkable.

I lower myself into the throne and take my seat.

"That is Emperor to you, Madame Director." I reply icily. It is no secret that we despise one another.

"Excuse me?!" She asks. Her eyes bulge and flame with indignation. Her lips curl into a snarl. She still hasn't dealt with the grief of the Emperor's demise. To see this occur now must be like cold steel to her heart. All I can do is give a melancholy and world weary sigh. It has been a long, tiring week.

"Nothing lasts forever. Even the longest, most glittering reign must come to an end someday."

She just stands there, her entire body quivering with rage and, perhaps, is that sorrow I detect?

"His Majesty's death has shaken us all Ysanne," I use her first name, dropping titles in order to hopefully drive through the point. "But we must move on. The Empire needs a leader to rally behind. Every moment we spend wallowing in despair over the dead is a moment given to our enemies. The Empire is dying Ysanne. We have a sacred duty to His Highness to make sure that his dream, his Empire does not die shortly after him. We must do this Ysanne. It is what he would want. For Palpatine."

"For Palpatine." She whispers in response.

I straighten my robes and lean back in the throne. "Summon the ruling council and the admiralty at once, we must prioritize the Empire's defense and prepare for a counteroffensive."

At this point all the Director is capable of is giving a curt nod of the head instead of the customary bow.

"At once, sssssssSire." The last word comes out as if it was caught in her throat. It clearly pained her to have said that. Without a further word she turns around and leaves.

It will be difficult, but we must do that which needs to be done. The Empire is in her darkest hour, and I will not abandon it, for it is a shrine to my old friend's greatness that must be preserved. I will lead this Empire in His Majesty's absence. It is the least I can do for him. Destiny calls me. At last my hour has come. I dare not shrink from it now.

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A new Emperor, a new age, a symbol for potential peace and hope for the future, etc. etc. But he is just a man, a man without the charisma or the know how to lead. He is a creature of shadow like his Master before him, capable of governing and pulling strings in the dark, but he is ill suited for the light. He does not know how to garner the loyalty of the powerful or the support of the masses. He will not last long. The seeds of his damnation have been sown for many a year and now they are starting to grow at a moment most inopportune. He is surrounded by those who covet the power he has come to possess, and he cannot instill in them the fear that kept them at bay when the Dark Lord held the throne. A system built upon greed, mistrust and violence cannot stand, for it is but a House of Cards, waiting for a gentle breeze to send it all tumbling down.


	29. A Look At Things From The Other Side

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The night sky of Endor is quite beautiful. I remember when I was younger I would look up to the stars and wonder. I had always heard stories from travelers about adventures taking place on far off worlds I had never even heard of. At times it seemed as if everyone in the galaxy was on the move, making something of their lives; everyone except for me. I wished to go on adventures, to travel the stars and see all that could be seen.

It seems that the Force has a rather twisted sense of irony. I got my wish, but it came at such a high cost. Now it seems that those stars have lost their mystical appeal, beautiful though they still are. I have traveled the galaxy these last four years and I have seen and done many things that I would have thought impossible before. The world has been turned upside down for me, and at times I feel overwhelmed by the weight of responsibility that seemed to be thrust upon my shoulders.

I suppose being the last of the Jedi will do that to you.

At times it feels as if the entire Rebellion is counting on me to perform some sort of miracle, as if I could singlehandedly restore freedom to the galaxy. They seem to trust in me implicitly, their war hero, their Jedi. No one man alone should be given that sort of trust. One needs only to look at what happened the last time someone put their total faith and power in the hands of one man.

Palpatine.

It's strange really. He is my greatest enemy, responsible for the corruption of my father, the destruction of the Jedi and the murder of billions, and yet I've never even met this man. This wretched, horrible man who seemed to be our savior during the Clone Wars, but turned out to be our greatest nemesis. What did father ever see in this man? Why was he so willing to turn on his comrades in order to support this beast? There is still good in him, I can sense that much. I know that he is struggling with his old self, trying to see through the fog of the Darkside that has clouded his mind and twisted his soul. But he will never be free as long as he is near the Emperor. I need to convince him to leave his service, or else he shall never be saved.

For a moment I allow myself to have second thoughts. Why am I turning myself over? To save father, yes, but he will bring me before the Emperor.

The Emperor is a blight upon creation, dirtying everything he touches. He turned a democracy into a dictatorship and twisted a good man into an evil creature. I may never have known Anakin Skywalker, but in my travels I have heard him spoken of in legend. The Hero with No Fear they called him, the savior of a thousand worlds. Again, I am forced to ask myself that question that has kept me up at night ever since that duel in Cloud City.

How could such a good man fall?

After all of this time I think that I may finally have the answer. Perhaps father fell because he allowed the praise and adoration of the public to go to his head. Perhaps he thought himself deserving of greatness, and perhaps he sought more. Maybe, just maybe, he became enchanted with that thing they call power. Perhaps he thought that the Jedi were not capable of granting him the power he sought. Maybe this denial of greater power angered him.

Perhaps he wanted power so much that he was willing to make a deal with a demon in order to get it.

But it seems that destiny is cruel, for such a Faustian bargain it seems comes with a horrendous price. Father has been condemned to a walking coffin, more machine than man, weighed down by metal and cybernetics, a hollow shell of what once was; a mockery of life, every breath and every step an eternal agony.

Just as the Emperor wanted.

On Outer Rim worlds like Tatooine far away from imperial surveilance it was often a subject of wonder on the relationship between Palpatine and Lord Vader. Many a person wondered why a supernatural being like Vader, who was regarded throughout the galaxy for his mystical powers and his cruelty, would bother to take orders from a mere old man. Many a theory existed, each more outlandish than the first. Some thought that the Emperor was merely a puppet and Vader was the real power behind the throne. Others thought that the Emperor had blackmailed Vader into serving him, holding something important as leverage. Some people would whisper that Vader was a demon from one of the moons of Iego who had a life debt of some sort to the Emperor. Some others even said that the Emperor had summoned Vader from the pits of hell with dark magic appropriated from the witches of Dathomir. As I said more outlandish than the first.

But now I know the horrible truth. It is all a lie. The reason Vader serves the Emperor is because the Emperor is even more powerful than he is.

He is a Sith Lord.

The Sith Lord.

The Sith are not well known in this day and age, as they had apparently been extinct for over a thousand years before now. Research into the subject, or any subject related to the Jedi has been strictly forbidden by the Empire ever since Palpatine crowned himself Emperor, but in my travels I have gathered enough information to form a vague idea of what happened.

The Sith were, or are, devotees of the Darkside and the ancient archenemies of the Jedi. For whatever reason they hated the Jedi above all else and sought to destroy them and become the absolute rulers of the galaxy. It seems that they succeeded when it came to the Emperor.

Somehow this Palpatine fooled us all. He cloaked himself in a shroud of humility and good deeds, pretending to be kind and gentle while plotting the downfall of us all. Such men are the most dangerous of them all, for you can never be sure what precisely they are until it is far too late.

At times it is hard for me to believe that these men were ever one and the same. I see old holograms of the Emperor back when he was just Chancellor Palpatine, and it is nearly impossible to believe at times. Who he was, or pretended to be, and what he is now are so diametrically opposed to one another that it is hard to believe that they are the same man.

If anything this shows that I need to tread carefully when I inevitably meet the Emperor. The lie that was kind old Chancellor Palpatine shows that the Emperor is a cunning and manipulative old man. I can't take anything he says at face value, for surely such a man is the master of lies.

He must be the master of lies, for how else could he have remained in control for so long? The reign of Palpatine has been an unending list of atrocities and injustices. People have been murdered, arrested, and enslaved by the billions, maybe even trillions, and yet the people still obey him. He has stripped the people of their freedoms, and yet they still follow him. He has presided over an era of decline in which the people have grown poorer and more miserable, and yet the people still proclaim to love him. How can they care for such a tyrant?

Perhaps it is in the Emperor's character. Perhaps he is just that smart. Whenever an atrocity occurs that cannot be covered up it is likely easy for him to shift blame away from himself onto one of his subordinates. Any attempt to take away the people's liberty is easily justified in the name of security. He has set himself up as the indispensable man, the only thing separating the universe from total discord. He has made himself to be the savior of the galaxy who guided us through the chaos of the Clone Wars. But the vivid memory of the Clone Wars has finally begun to fade as a new generation, my generation rises up and begins to wonder why they must sacrifice and slave away for nothing while His Majesty grows richer on distant Coruscant.

Perhaps he has stayed in power for so long because he understands people. He is an expert when it comes to the mind. Yoda once told me that fear is the path to the Darkside. Therefore Palpatine and fear are old acquaintances. They understand one another implicitly. And so the Emperor uses fear, that omnipresent emotion that seems to be instilled in all sentient beings, to force others to do as he pleases. The Emperor knows that oftentimes lies, even if they are outrageous and blatant lies, are still more comforting and acceptable in the eyes and ears of the people than the truth. And so they go along with the charade, continuing to believe in his lies, because if the people ever realized just how deeply the Emperor had betrayed their trust I believe it would be quite the devastating shock to them. The worst part is that most people don't realize just how deeply they have been deceived, preferring instead to willfully believe in the lie.

And that is why we fight. The men and women of the Rebel Alliance have all realized to some extent that the Emperor was using and abusing us, and we seek to make the people realize just how tyrannical and unjust the Empire's rule is.

But these musings do not answer a question that has plagued many during the last quarter century.

Why?

Why does the Emperor oppress us so? What reason does he have to hate? I don't have the answer for that. At this point I doubt that even the Emperor knows why he hates. That is the thing about hate. It comes in many different forms, but sooner or later it burns you up until there is nothing left but a charred cinder. You go on hating for so long that you find yourself incapable of feeling anything else. It becomes a way of life, an all-consuming addiction, and at a certain point it becomes nearly impossible to let go of.

Perhaps his hatred drove him insane. Maybe that is why he feels the need to oppress others, because he hates everyone.

But that is only a part of the equation it seems. It is clear that he is driven by a lust for greater power. That seems to be something that followers of the Darkside all have in common. They are driven by their ambition and a lust for power. They journey through life with their arms outstretched, yearning and driving after a power that is just out of their reach. It is all that they care about. Compared to power nothing else matters and anything becomes justifiable when it is done in the pursuit of power, even murder.

Frankly it doesn't make any sense to me.

Power never appealed to me. I've never understood why certain people had such a compulsive need to rule over people. I've never wanted to rule over people, but rather be with people in their company. I've never thought myself better than others. Even with the power of the Force I realize that there are people who are better than I am at certain things. Han has a more experienced world view. Admiral Akbar is a better tactician. Leia is a better diplomat and politician. R2 is a better mechanic. There is nothing inherently wrong with that.

But it seems that those who desire power have an obsessive need to be the best at everything. Men like Palpatine need to show everyone in the galaxy that they are better at everything, that they are a superior life form in comparison to everyone else. Is the Emperor that personally insecure? I suppose anything is possible.

It is sad though. In a way I pity the Emperor somewhat. It seems that it must be very lonely being at the top. Men like Palpatine seem so obsessed with getting to the top of the pyramid of life that they find themselves very far up ahead of everyone else, oftentimes with no one else around that they can relate to. The pursuit of power leaves little time for others, and oftentimes the acquisition of power isolates and drives away those who could be your friends. He has everything in the galaxy, and yet he has nothing. He is alone, a pariah amongst sentient kind, cast out and left to crumble and die with no one to care for him.

It is surely a cursed life, a tainted life. It is a life that I would never want to lead. I hate to sound too sappy or sentimental, but I would be nothing without my friends. They have supported me in times of danger and taught me what it means to be a better person. They have enriched my life with their presence. Their camaraderie has given me the purpose I need to keep fighting the good fight.

Men like Palpatine are horrific cynics, seeing and expecting only the worst that the galaxy has to offer. I am not naïve. I know that the galaxy has its problems. It always has and always will. But men like Palpatine look at the galaxy and its problems and declare to themselves, "why not." They embrace the corruption and revel in hatred and violence instead of fighting against it as they should. But I like to think that I look at the galaxy and say "why". I like to think that, while some problems will always exist their effects on civilization can be minimized. We can make things better. But we need to work together to do so.

That is why I am turning myself over to the Imperials. Father's cause is not lost yet. There is still a good man inside worthy of redemption. I can save him if I try.

An imperial patrol is standing at the bottom of the hill. All I have to do is walk out of the brush and hand myself over. I look up once more to the stars. But my eyes are not focused on the tiny pinpricks of light. Instead my eyes are locked onto the incomplete form of the second Death Star, which hangs in the sky like an all seeing eye, as if it were searching for us, or for me. The Emperor is on that station and he believes that it shall be his ultimate tool, a device that shall forever seal the galaxy and its people within the Emperor's iron grasp.

But there is one thing that His Majesty has never taken into account. He may think himself to be like a god, but he is not. He is assured of his own victory. His vanity and his arrogance shall be his undoing. He has underestimated our resolve to see that justice is done. And he forgets all too soon that he and that which he has created is mortal, and is thus capable of being destroyed.

Nothing is invincible. Not the Death Star, and not Emperor Palpatine.

I go now to my father, to the Emperor, and to my destiny.

May the will of the Force prevail.


	30. Endgame

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The world dissolves away into nothing as if it was composed of smoke. Everything falls out of focus, except for him.

There is only me.

There is only him.

Yoda.

Ideology is forgotten. Centuries of history and past slights are left at the wayside. Decades of planning go unheeded in this, the final showdown.

The personification of light and dark engage in combat for this, the first and last time. All is forgotten, all except for the _need_, the all-encompassing, all-consuming urge to destroy that which we detest the most; each other.

The stage is set and the orchestra is engaged.

And so the dance begins.

A lightsaber duel is the pinnacle of high art, the perfect balancing act of elegance and brutality. It is a sublime and wondrous experience, fusing together death and life, hatred and focus, joy and confusion into one grand and glorious waltz.

We start slowly at first. A single swing here, easily blocked, a jab there, easily deflected. Primal joy wretches from the innermost center of my being and I let loose a gush of laughter. The Sith live for the Darkside, and what glorifies and strengthens the Darkness more than combat and slaughter? Let this duel then stand as a tribute to the Supreme power of the Darkside and its final victory.

The pace picks up significantly. It is both dance and music in a way, a grand orchestra that builds to a crescendo. Humming and sizzling, sabers slash and lock with one another again and again. These are the instruments of the orchestra of death, as moving to my ears as the wind and string instruments of an opera. We circle one another like vultures, scanning and analyzing one another for chinks in our armor with practiced strikes and blows. We seek patterns to manipulate, weaknesses to take advantage of and fallacies to exploit. A feral snarl escapes from my lips as our sabers lock. The old troll just doesn't know when to quit. He is stubborn and refuses to just up and die.

For a being nearly 880 years old Yoda is certainly spry for his age. His size is a natural disadvantage of course, but he makes up for it with his skills in the Force. Leaping and twirling about, Yoda is a tiny green whirlwind of destruction, always on the move, practically impossible to reach given his agility. But he is at a disadvantage. He holds himself back when he should press forward. He suppresses his hatred for me, for he does hate me.

Never would the esteemed Master Yoda admit it, but I have hurt him badly. I have taken from him all that he ever loved. To an extent Yoda has trained practically every Jedi that ever lived over the past 800 years. Every living Jedi during this war had grown up under his tutelage. He was the father of all Jedi, and despite his slavish devotion to the Jedi principles against attachment, Yoda loved them all as his children.

And now they are all dead.

Because of me.

Because of him.

Yoda's failure cost the lives of nearly every Jedi. He trained them in a manner that would have only been effective against the Sith of old. He could never fathom that, should the Sith return, they would adapt, that they would learn from their mistakes and develop a new strategy. Yoda never saw this coming. He was rigid, dogmatic and inflexible. And now he has paid a price most dear. He has his hatred, he has his anger, but he does not use them. The senile old fool. Even now, at the end he does not realize the true power of the Darkside. Give in to your rage you old green fool, allow your hatred to fuel your power. Give in to the darkness and become that which you detest the most. It is the only way that you can strike me down and claim victory over the Sith. No? Oh well, your funeral.

In a sense it is most fitting that he did not die along with his children. Yoda is the very personification of the Jedi Order, and thus embodies all that I despise. He deserves this. He deserved to watch and sense helplessly as one by one thousands of Jedi across thousands of worlds were snuffed out like candles in the breeze. He deserved to feel their fear, their agony, and their confusion as those most loyal to them, the clones, turned on their comrades and gunned them down with cold efficiency.

Yoda must be made to realize the depth of his mistake. He must be made to realize that his failure is complete. He must realize that every ideal he held dear has been proven worthless. He must be made to realize that his Jedi crusade was a futile gesture. He must be shown the nature of his self-righteous hypocrisy. He deserves to be shown that he lived a life of wasted opportunities and wasted promises.

He must be broken physically and spiritually. Only then, when his last hope is dashed upon the rocks of reality, only when he succumbs to the abject despair that he warned many a Jedi against, only when he lies broken and battered at my feet shall I give him permission to die.

And so I laugh. I laugh and I laugh and I laugh. It is all that I can do in this duel that has moved from the holding office to the Senate Chamber itself. With the Force repulsorpods where Senators and their delegation would stand are ripped from their docking clamps and hurled at the ever moving form of Yoda. Dance my little puppet, dance!

My laughter echoes throughout the empty Chamber, mocking and degrading. Every breath is a sharp rebuke of Yoda's arrogance. Every chuckle is a vindication for the supremacy of the Sith. Every echo taunts and chides the esteemed Jedi, for there is no way that he can win. We are far to evenly matched, I see that now. Unfortunately I cannot beat him. But he cannot beat me either.

With a single bound Yoda leaps into the pod I am standing in, looking to run me through with his saber while he has the chance. It is beyond time that I ended this dance. Here comes the crescendo. Lightning is unfurled from outstretched hands and the battle of wills draws to its climax. He holds back the lightning as best he can, but he is weakened from the duel and his defenses are buckling.

But what is this?

He is gathering the last of his strength to redirect the energy of the lightning back at me!

And that is precisely what he does. But it seems that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. Yoda and I are both thrown from the pod, but I manage to grab a railing and hold on. Yoda however is not so lucky. I hear thud after thud as his body goes crashing to the ground.

I did it.

I won.

And so I laugh again, an unsteady laugh, but a victorious, gloating chortle nonetheless. The greatest of the Jedi has failed to defeat me. Though for a moment it was close

The Sith are truly victorious. It matters not if Yoda lives or dies. This was his last opportunity to defeat me and it failed. Let him run away into hiding. Let him fear the glory of the Sith. Let him live out his remaining years in fear of me, knowing that there is nothing he could have done to stop my inevitable rise. The reign of Sidious may now officially commence.

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The skylanes of Coruscant shimmer with traffic. Truly it is the city that never sleeps. Everyone seems to be on the move when it comes to Galactic City. There is no rest for the weary.

Master Yoda is very weary.

Senator Organa turns again to look at his compatriot in the front passenger seat. For what seems like the hundredth time the Alderaanian turns to the wizened old Jedi and asks, "Master Yoda, are you sure you are not injured?"

His ears droop further, his head bows in silent mourning, and his eyes close. For a tense moment that stretches into eternity silence reigns. And then he speaks.

"Only my pride Senator, only my pride."

The rest of the ride to the docks and the awaiting ship passes in silence.

Yoda turns to gaze at the passing city, a city that has been his home for many centuries. He knows nearly every nook and cranny, every secret and every location of note. This has been his home, and he has loved it dearly, though Jedi are not meant to love.

He will never see Coruscant again.

He knows that he has failed in the depths of his soul. Blinded by the Sith, he had led the Order to its premature demise. He presided over an era of stagnation and learned nothing. He never saw the warning signs, he never noticed just how quickly things had spiraled out of control. Now the damage is done.

Now, in this moment of silence and darkness is the time to reflect.

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Proud was I. A hallmark of a good Jedi, pride is not. But proud I was. Proud of my accomplishments. Proud of my students and friends. Proud of my Order and what we had accomplished. Strayed from the path I had. Allowed myself to become arrogant and blind. Unwilling and unable to recognize my own faults while pointing them out in others.

The price I have paid for my arrogance, great it has been. Dead, my friends and allies are. But change the past, I cannot. The past, set in stone it is, immovable and unchanging. But the future, susceptible to change it is. See without seeing I do this truth. Realize the flaws in my teachings I do. But the central tenets of the Jedi, correct they are. Allowed myself to deviate from them, I did. Lost sight of what we were supposed to be. But a Jedi I still am. As long as one lives, so to does the Order. In time, rebuild we will. New Jedi there shall be. Fight for Justice we do. Revise our methods I shall. Learn from my mistakes I have. But unfit am I to lead the new generation. To old am I, to stuck in my ways I admit. But perhaps, perhaps someone new shall arise to the task.

Fail, the Sith inevitably will. Corrupts, the Darkside does. In time the horrors and oppression of the Darkside the people shall discover. Rise up against this monster they shall. Against the will of the people, not even a Sith can stand to rule.

But such things, occur not will they in my lifetime. Time it shall take before the people become discontented with the Sith.

Occur, a revolution shall. But in my lifetime it shall succeed not.

Into exile I go, to a place where find me, the Sith never shall. In time prevail, the will of the Force shall. Come New Jedi will, seeking knowledge and training. Be there I will to give them knowledge. But a warning I shall serve to the next generation. The consequence, I am, of unbridled arrogance and overconfidence. Look upon me they shall, and they will know never to underestimate the duplicitous cunning of the Darkside.

Mourn I shall for those that have fallen before me, but despair I shall not, for despair is the path to the Darkside. Honor their memory I shall by continuing on. Beaten I am, but broken I am not. Carry on the good fight I shall, but in my own, different way. Prevail in time the ways of the Light shall.

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**I probably butchered Yoda talking, but Yoda speak is hard for me to get my mind around when writing prolonged dialogue for him.**


	31. The Blood of Patriots and Tyrants

**I told you guys I was terrible at Yoda speak. But did you listen? no. :) No hard feelings I hope.**

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"_The tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants."-_Thomas Jefferson

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In this hour of victory I only taste bitter defeat. We've won. The Death Star has been destroyed. We have shown the galaxy that the Empire is not invincible and that the Emperor's iron grip is not as absolute as had been expected. The symbol of Imperial power has been broken. The Alliance has proven to itself and to the people of the galaxy that we are a force to be reckoned with.

But this victory has come at a cost most dear.

Alderaan is gone.

Gone, how can it possibly be gone?

It was said that Coruscant was the brain of the galaxy. If that is true then Alderaan was its heart and soul. My world was a treasure trove of beauty and learning. We were a culture with a rich and ancient history that stretches back countless millennia into the distant past. Our literature and centers of learning were second to none. We were a beacon of light, an oasis of freedom and tolerance in an increasingly dark and turbulent galaxy.

And now thousands of years of civilization have been wiped away in less than a second. So much has been lost. The device responsible for this crime against civilization may have been destroyed along with the monster responsible for pulling the trigger, but it changes nothing. I may have avenged my people by seeing the Death Star and Tarkin destroyed, but this changes nothing.

Alderaan is still gone. And it is still my fault. I shouldn't have agreed to carry the plans on my ship. I shouldn't have let myself be captured. I shouldn't have put my people in danger by hiding the location of the base during my interrogation. So many people could have been saved if I had just told Vader during the interrogation. My resistance spurred Tarkin to take drastic measures.

What am I saying? I had no way of knowing that Tarkin would be so heartless as to use the Death Star against Alderaan. I didn't think it possible that Tarkin would dare even threaten to destroy a world as important as Alderaan. But he did. He ordered the annihilation of everything I held dear out of spite towards me and every ideal I cherish.

But he is not alone in this travesty. He had an accomplice.

Emperor Palpatine.

Tarkin could never have destroyed Alderaan without Palpatine's authorization. Tarkin may have decided which planet was to be destroyed, but Alderaan would still exist if Palpatine had simply said no.

But he didn't. He heard the Grand Moff's proposal and gave his dark blessings without a single pang of conscience or regret.

The Emperor is a twisted creature by his nature. He covets things, it is in his nature. He needs to possess things, to dominate them and make them his own. In the process he twists and corrupts all that he touches, transforming all in his wake into hellish caricatures of that which they once were. In a sense the galaxy and its many inhabited worlds are like water. When it is cupped in your hands it stays there, but if you squeeze you hands together the water spills from your hands and out of your control. And yet the Emperor fails to realize that the tighter his grip over the galaxy becomes the more star systems slip through his fingers.

He seems convinced that fear will subdue any rebellion, but fear has another effect. If one is fearful enough for their own lives and the lives of those they care for they will feel that they have nothing to lose by fighting. And so they find instilled within them a will to resist what they see as nearly assured destruction. In other words, when people are pushed to far they will realize they have nothing to lose by pushing back.

That is why the Alliance exists. The people have been pushed about and terrorized by this government for too long. They cry out for an end to injustice and repression, but their pleas fall upon deaf ears. The Emperor cares not for the people or their needs. He is a selfish old man who cares only for his own power.

But he is intelligent, and that is what makes him so formidable. One would think that the people on worlds across the galaxy would rise up en masse upon learning about the destruction of Alderaan, but they have not. And they won't.

They won't because the Emperor is a shrewd and calculating individual. He understands how to manipulate the thoughts and feelings of the people, though he may not understand these feelings themselves.

The annihilation of Alderaan is not the first atrocity committed by the Empire. Hundreds of cities have been razed from orbit, millions have been killed and billions enslaved. Civilians have been gunned down in cold blood for the crime of assembling in protest of unjust laws. Governments have been toppled and replaced with autocratic governors. The people have had their rights stripped from them, and yet the Emperor's reign has endured, if not strengthened.

Why?

Because the Empire and it's legion of minions is large enough and broad enough for the Emperor to find a suitable scapegoat. Gunned down civilians were terrorists. The bombing of cities and planetary genocide was the result of overzealous officers in the field who exceeded their authority without consulting their superiors or the Emperor. Every corrupt action is the fault of some low level functionary. And the people's freedoms are taken from them in the name of security and stability in increasingly turbulent times.

It doesn't matter that in most cases the Emperor has been directly involved in these atrocities, either by approving of them or actually planning them out himself. What matters is how the people _perceive_ the Emperor and his relationship to these crimes. Palpatine is a master politician and propagandist, capable of flawlessly manipulating the facts in order to paint things his way. Whenever something horrible happens at the hands of the Imperial Military Palpatine is always conveniently left out of the loop due to "an excessively large and complex bureaucracy and chain of command" or is "mislead or misinformed by commanders in the field as to the nature of the situation."

Even now the Emperor is playing damage control. Some will surely rise up and realize his complicity in this crime, but many will shake their heads at this catastrophe and murmur, "If only the Emperor had known."

That is how the vast majority of the people view Palpatine and the Empire. Even certain members of the Alliance itself see the Emperor as essentially harmless. It is the bloodthirsty admirals and the callous members of the Emperor's Ruling Council who are to blame for the Empire's corruption and malevolence as far as the people are concerned. They try to rationalize these things to themselves, failing to see how the seemingly kind old man who led us through the darkness of the Clone Wars could possibly be responsible for such evil.

The answer is simple. That "kind old man" routine was a lie. Palpatine was possibly the greatest politician in history, because not only was he able to so skillfully lie, but he was able to lie in such a manner that the majority of people would accept this lie without a question as the truth, no matter how outrageous the lie was.

That is why the people accept the Emperor. They are in his thrall. They believe that he is on their side, trying his hardest to reign in the bloodthirsty military whose leadership was likely driven mad by the chaos of war. They think he cares for them. They think he is on their side.

I know better. Even when I was young I knew there was something wrong about that man. It was something about those eyes that threw me off. Those sickly ochre eyes that seemed to glow with supernatural light. They seemed to peer into your very soul and seek to destroy it or consume it whole. And that smile! That twisted sneer on his face. How can people find such a smile calming or sincere, as so many claim? It is the smile of a predator assured of catching his prey. It is a contemptuous leer that shows that it's owner is secure in his sense of supremacy over those he deems beneath him.

And then, once, I actually met him. It was that meeting that destroyed what doubts I had and solidified that which father had already told me about Palpatine's evil. I had just been elected Senator after father had retired. I wasn't exactly pleased with filling father's shoes. For whatever reason I don't think he was either. After all, it wasn't as if a Senator had much, or any, real power in the Empire. The Senate had long been reduced to a rubber stamp legislature, a powerless advisory body that supported whatever the Emperor wanted in order to prop up the illusion of democracy in order to keep certain segments of the population pacified.

It had become custom for new Senators to present themselves to the Emperor. We were attending a reception for Freshmen Senators when he arrived. The lively and loud ballroom in which we had gathered became as silent as a tomb. The temperature in the room had seemed to drop, and then I heard it.

_TAP…TAP…TAP_

As one every person in the room, as if on cue turned towards the door and genuflected, our eyes trained upon the ground, refusing to look up. A sense of excitement, anticipation, and absolute dread rippled through the room.

_TAP…TAP…TAP_ went the sound of the Emperor's cane.

Suddenly a voice cried out, "Pray be upstanding and rise before your most gracious Sovereign, His Imperial Majesty, Emperor Palpatine."

As one we seemed to raise our heads and look. A small entourage had entered the room, flanked on both sides by the crimson robed members of the Royal Guard. The man who had spoken, (who I recognized from the news as the Grand Vizier) stood the right of a decrepit looking old man leaning on a gnarled cane. But I realized something then. This man, the Emperor, was certainly not weak as he would have some assume. The cane he leaned on appeared to be more for show than for actual function. He appeared physically weak so as to appear sympathetic to the people. He managed to say without saying that, as our monarch he had worked long and hard for the good of the people, and that we should be thankful that we should have an Emperor that would work himself to exhaustion in our service.

What a clever man.

The Emperor traveled up the row of new Senators, shaking hands and occasionally exchanging a word here and there.

Finally he had come to me.

He looked me in the eyes, and I looked into the jaws of hell.

When he took my hand in his my skin began to crawl. Every instinct screamed for me to back away and run. Suddenly I felt violently ill. For what felt like eons he stood there analyzing me. This was not a man. It, it was wrong. It was disturbing. It was an animal, a monster that would gladly rip my throat out with its own teeth, drink my blood and feast on my innards. It was evil. Never before had I been so terrified of something as I had in that moment. For a moment he seemed mildly confused, as if, for but a brief moment, he had seen something that he had not expected to see in me.

Finally, he spoke.

"Senator Organa. It would seem that you are indeed your father's daughter." Whether he meant this as a compliment or an insult I still have no idea. Perhaps by now he was beginning to suspect my father's less than loyal political leanings. "I doubt that your career shall be…uneventful."

And with that he had gone.

Like a hurricane he blew into my life and sent me flying, only to leave just as quickly. And now he has done it again by destroying my home.

I knew at that moment, as I do now that the Emperor is not a man to be trifled with. He is vicious, petty, and cunning. But now I know just to what horrible extent he will go to punish those who challenge his rule. But this will not deter me. I will not allow this man to defeat me.

Father spent the last twenty years of his life opposing Palpatine. If I were to give up now all of his hard work would have been for nothing, and Father would have died in vain.

The only way that I can honor Father's memory and atone for putting Alderaan in such a position in the first place is to carry on in my opposition to the Emperor. This is a war that is worth fighting. We are fighting to ensure the revival of liberty in this galaxy. I am willing to give my life for this cause, as are my friends and allies. The war has just begun, but already it seems that too many patriots have shed their blood in service to this ideal of freedom.

It is high time that some tyrants gave their fair share.

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_If only the Fuhrer knew!-_Ian Kershaw on the average reactions Germans had upon learning of military excesses and atrocities committed during WWII.


	32. We Reap That Which We Sow

**Jepsie: Thanks. I have some idea of a potential story, but it probably wouldn't happen for a very long time. **

**Ashla: I'll get to Han in time. For now I think I will switch back to Palpatine's POV for a few chapters.**

**Chocolate Teapot: Glad you enjoyed it!**

**Trap3r: You get an Internet Cookie for spotting that reference.**

**Soffy: Glad you enjoyed it.**

**Loteva: I considered going down that route, but I doubt she felt much sympathy considering that her home planet had just been destroyed. Maybe later she would have felt that, but I feel with the wound so fresh she wouldn't feel very sorry for the nameless Imperial henchmen.**

**Please Leave a Review!**

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The air hums and crackles with intensity as sound seems to echo and wither. The room is littered with wreckage and here and there flames flicker away. A freshly murdered corpse lies broken at a distance from where I was thrown in the heat of battle, smoke still rising from his clothing as a byproduct of the Force Lightning pulsing through his body. These are the few signs of that which had only recently been. The battle is over. The Senators and the Jedi have escaped.

I still do not know whether to label this as a victory or a defeat.

On the one hand I know now who my enemies are. For years I had had my suspicions, but I had little proof as to who in the Senate had been conspiring against me.

It can be most frustrating at times. I have all of the power in the galaxy, and yet I am constrained by public opinion. I could easily have ordered Organa and his colleagues arrested and executed, though I knew not for sure of their guilt. But appearances must be kept, and the sudden and unexplained disappearances of such prominent Senators would stir discontent in the collective mind of the public. My hold on power is not yet unshakable, and a blatant sign of oppression such as the apparent arrest of Senators with no evidence against them would shake my hold on power.

Nor could I implicate them with false evidence. The risk of someone discovering that any evidence implicating them was false and tracing that forgery back towards me would be too risky an endeavor to undertake.

No, I had to catch them in the act. I had to lure them out of the shell of public respectability by drawing them into treason.

In enters Lord Vader and his little science project. It is the nature of the Sith to attempt to ascend to ultimate power. It is the role of the apprentice to try and unseat the Master. And that is what Vader tried to do by taking on this boy, this Starkiller as his apprentice.

It would have been the perfect plan of course, had it not been for one glaring fault. Vader is, by his very nature, a rather blunt individual. As an apprentice and my enforcer in the military this is a highly desirable attribute. Vader is a creature of brute force and ostentatious aggression, designed to publicly and dramatically show off the Empire's unlimited power for the galaxy to see and to fear.

However, as a result of this Lord Vader's skills in subjects such as subtlety and subterfuge are, well, lacking.

He is by no means woefully incompetent in this area, but when attempting to hide something from his Master Vader is certainly an amateur. It was an incredibly sloppy operation by the standards of any assassin trained in the field of espionage and intelligence gathering. Starkiller left no one alive in his path to speak of him, but the bodies of dozens of killed Imperial Stormtroopers spoke volumes.

After that it was only a matter of sending my finest spies to watch over Vader and report his movements.

I will commend Vader though, it was certainly a valiant effort, and I admit that it took longer than it should have to uncover the truth of Vader's plot. But Vader's blundering attempt to succeed me did indeed provide me with a wonderful opportunity. This Starkiller could form an alliance of rebels. With a supposed Jedi openly opposing the Empire and calling for revolution traitors and insurrectionists within the government and across the galaxy would surely flock to his banner, believing that the moment they had long since dreamed of had finally arrived. And then, once they were gathered together in one place the trap would be sprung and all of my enemies would fall.

It was the perfect plan. And I was so close to achieving my final victory over my would be opponents, if not for an unseen snag in an otherwise flawless plot. It would seem that Starkiller had a change of heart. For whatever reason he grew attached to these people. Perhaps he had seen in them the means by which he could achieve the destiny Vader had told him of, destroying me (an armed uprising could certainly do that). Or maybe, just maybe, he had come to see these misguided and hopeless revolutionaries as friends. Perhaps he saw their grievances as being legitimate and therefore their cause as being just.

How disgusting. That any practitioner of the Darkside, young and feeble though they may be, should fall from the darkness in favor of siding with the allies of the Jedi is inherently repulsive to me.

I know now for sure. This was no victory. Though I now know the names and identities of the leading traitors they have escaped my grasp. And as for Starkiller, well, he may no longer by alive to oppose me, but even in death he will make my work that much harder. How disappointing.

Speaking of disappointments, through the smoke and the sparks there is a wheezing, breathing shadow given form. The battered old husk of a man known and feared throughout the galaxy as Lord Vader limps towards the body and towards me. Anyone else in the galaxy would be shaking with fear to see such a horrific visage appear from the smoke, tattered, burned, scarred and bruised.

I know better though. Vader just barely survived the confrontation with his apprentice. Vader's inability to defeat his own apprentice only highlights his increasingly infirm grip on the power of the Darkside. Vader has grown increasingly feeble in his old age, and his current state clearly indicates that the time is fast approaching for me to find for myself a new apprentice.

Vader stops before Starkiller's corpse and looks down on it with a dispassionate contempt. I approach from where I had been standing at a distance, collecting my thoughts.

"He is dead." States Vader.

I'm tempted to turn to him and say, "no, really? I had no idea!" but I bite down on my tongue and my desire to take out my rage on Vader, no matter how much he may deserve it. The boy may be dead, but even in death people can cause damage for the living. Now matters have been made worse. I give voice to these thoughts.

"Then he is more powerful than ever." I respond. "He was meant to root out the Rebels. His sacrifice will only inspire them."

And it will. Nothing is more valuable to a cause then a martyr to be deified. I have no doubt that the story of the brave and noble Starkiller will circulate throughout the galaxy, growing larger and grander with every embellished retelling. He shall become a symbol, a myth, and a legend. He shall be seen by many as a great visionary who proved that the people need not fear the Empire. They will say that he believed in their cause enough to die for it. The resolve of those who oppose me will only become stronger. The will to fight will become impossible to suppress. He has given them hope. Hope that I can be successfully opposed. Hope that the power of the Empire is not absolute. Hope that I and my rule can be destroyed.

Such ideas are intolerable, completely and absolutely intolerable. Even in death this boy cheats me of that which is my right, to rule this galaxy unopposed. The worst part is that I cannot make him suffer for his insolent defiance.

Vader shakes me from my reflections. "But now we know who they are." He reasons. "I will hunt them down and destroy them just as you always intended…Master."

How quick he is to try and distance himself from the boy and the clear damage that he has caused. Now that the boy is dead Vader seems rather eager to reassert his position at my side as the loyal apprentice. If Vader had never taken the boy as his apprentice in the first place this fiasco would never have come to pass. I turn and take a few steps back to my throne. How tempted I am to torture Vader for this disaster. But for some odd reason I cannot bring myself to do so.

Perhaps I see a bit of myself in Vader. After all, I took Maul as an apprentice when I myself was still learning from Plagueis. I turn back to look at him. His face, normally concealed by his helmet, now mostly destroyed, is quite similar to mine. Pale, chalk white skin, scar and tissue damage pockmarked at random, and those eyes, such a cloying shade of yellow.

To think that matters have come to this. I don't even have the heart to punish an underling for his grievous failure. I suppose I am too preoccupied with the serious danger we find ourselves in.

And so I say this, and only this. "You must be relentless Lord Vader. If even a SINGLE rebel survives, this alliance that we have unwittingly created…will be our undoing."

And so I turn and leave Vader to his own task ahead.

Even when there are only two the Sith still find ways to destroy themselves. In past generations the Sith had eradicated themselves as often as the Jedi themselves had destroyed us. It was hoped that with the formation of the Rule of Two the Sith would never again be put in a situation where they themselves would cause the downfall of the Order. At this time it is evident that this hope was but a futile dream. We have created the weapon that could destroy us and unleashed it upon the galaxy.

This rebellion shall be a blight upon my New Order, causing all that I have painstakingly built to wither and die. It is a virus that shall spread the disease of insurrection to every seditious star system and every receptive individual. If it is not completely eradicated here and now, if a single cell survives it shall grow again only to reappear years from now.

Many shall be swayed to the side of this rebellion. They have no sense of vision. These weak minded fools fail to see the beauty of the grand design I have laid out for the future of the galaxy. It would all have been so perfect. But they would rather fight.

I must prepare myself and the Empire for the coming storm, for a storm is coming whether we may want it or not. With any luck I shall wash away these vermin and cleanse the galaxy now and forever of those who would rather be disloyal to me.

Let the rebels approach me. Let them have their little rebellion. If it is war that they desire then it is war that they shall receive. I relish the opportunity to show to the galaxy once and for all that no force can dare challenge my power. I shall be as a vengeful and jealous god. Hellfire and brimstone shall rain down from the heavens. The streets shall run red with flowing blood. There will be screams and begging for mercy. But there is no mercy. There is only my judgment and my wrath. And I do judge this rebellion and all who sympathize with them to be unfit and undeserving of life.

Death is fast approaching. Let the drums of war beat long and loud for all to hear.

My revenge shall be swift and painful.

Let my enemies beware.

This Galactic Civil War that the Rebels so desired has begun.


	33. The Reunion

**I was looking through Wookieepedia looking up information I could use for upcoming chapters when I came across what could be interpreted as a continuity snarl. In the Darth Plagueis novel Palpatine kills his family, right? Mom, dad, brothers, sisters, all of them. However, according to the Dark Empire Sourcebook Palpatine had an 11 year old grandniece who survived him, one Ederlathh Pallopides. How can we explain this, seeing as his siblings were younger than he was and he was only a teenager when he killed them? With a good old fashioned retcon, that's how. Hence this chapter. Please leave a review for this, my longest chapter yet!**

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I've never liked space travel. Even now after all of these years I could never get the hang of it. My wife teases me at times, saying that I'm stuck in my ways and that I need to get over this irrational sense of claustrophobia. But there is something about that great beyond we call space that sends a tingle of dread down my spine. Give me the firm, solid ground of Naboo any day.

I suppose the main cause of my fear was, well, _that day_.

The day everything changed.

My brother was never what you would call a model citizen. In fact, if it hadn't been for father's money he would have surely been labeled a criminal and thrown into a reformatory. From my earliest memory of him until _that day_ I remember him as being consistently cold and aloof towards others. He possessed a towering arrogance and an unshakable sense of superiority. He held us all in contempt. He never really liked anyone. He was a rebellious young man when I knew him, bringing home disreputable women, crashing his speeder, and constantly at Father's throat.

But simultaneously he possessed a smooth, charismatic persona that one could almost label as charming. It was an oily personality, the one that my brother possessed, and it seemed to bring many to his side. Even at a young age he managed to attract to himself a posse of devoted followers who he called his friends. In reality they were his entourage, nothing more than tools that he could use to further his own ends, whatever those may be.

He hated us all. We were beneath him as far as he was concerned. We held him back and made his life unbearable, and he resented us for it. But I like to think that he hated me a little less than the others. I knew never to push him. Our siblings taunted him and ridiculed him for being a failure in Father's eyes, but I never criticized him. I tried to comfort him once after an altercation with Father, but he made it overwhelmingly clear that he didn't need my pity. I learned to stay out of his way. Perhaps he appreciated that. How else can I explain that which would later occur.

He was, frankly, a ticking time bomb just waiting to go off. I always knew that he would inevitably kill Father one way or the other, or at the very least try. I just did not know that he would do this.

I suppose it all started with that Muun who took him under his wing. Perhaps that Damask fellow was the one who finally pushed my brother to do that which he had likely yearned to do since he was born. I remember it now. It will haunt me to my dying day. We had been on the family yacht when it had happened. The event that we as a family had long dreaded had finally occurred. The barely restrained hatred and contempt that my father and brother held towards one another was revealed in all of its hideous infamy. And then my brother did what I had expected. He murdered father. I could hear it from the other room. Bones cracked, skin ripping and tearing, shrieks of absolute agony.

But brother wasn't finished with father. The door opened and we saw the animalistic glint in his eyes, an inferno of pent up hatred finally released.

The King of the Beasts had just been unleashed, and it ripped into its prey with vigor. The guards he easily dispatched, and then he moved on to his family. Mother fell first, shrieking as her spine was practically torn from her neck by some invisible magic and her body shredded by azure lightning. Then my younger brother, whose body was thrown repeatedly against the wall until it was nothing but a bloody smear. My elder sister was next to go. Without laying a hand on her she began to choke. She suffocated to death and fell over, her limp form falling to the deck with an anticlimactic thud.

She got off lucky.

My younger sister was the only one he laid a hand on. She had teased him without remorse again and again. She taunted him without end, never realizing as I had even then that she was digging her own grave. Like a wild Nexu he had used his teeth to bite her neck and rip the flesh right off. Her exposed jugular spouted hot blood all over his form. He looked into her eyes as she died with a hateful intensity that seemed to revel in her pain. His, eyes, once cold blue, now a glowing ochre were the last thing she ever saw. She died in agony and terror trying to call out for her dead mother.

And then he turned to me. He was drenched in our sister's blood, his hair matted and damp, his eyes glowing, his face twitching, his breath heavy and panting. I could see that a war was raging just beneath the skin of that which I had called my older brother. A part of him longed to tear me apart as he had the others, but maybe, just maybe, there was a small part that urged him not to. For what felt like an eternity we stared at one another.

Then he got up from where he had been crouched over my sisters body and left the room, leaving me trembling in the corner.

The rest of what happened passed in a blur. Brother contacted that Muun he had started to work for, who used his connections to cover up my brother's culpability in this crime. I was given a little money and told to change my name and start over from scratch. My brother made it quite clear that if I spoke even a whisper of what had happened on that day he would find out and I would die like the others.

"And don't try to contact me Julius." He snarled. "The last thing I need is a reminder of my past coming back to hound me."

All that I could do was to nod dumbly. But before we parted ways I looked at my brother and asked the question that had burned in my mind.

"Why did you spare me?" I asked.

He turned back to me and seemed to analyze me for a moment, icy reptilian eyes scanning my features. I felt very cold and insignificant underneath that glare. Finally he offered a sigh and answered.

"When I rejected the name that father gave me you were very…_accepting_. The others either teased me by still referring to me by that name or insisted on using it out of the misguided belief that I was going through a phase. You saw the truth. In our time as a part of this excuse for a family you have never criticized, condemned, or ridiculed me, whether it had been to my face or behind my back. You may be a week willed, ignorant child, but you were still just cognizant enough to realize that it would be a poor idea to defy me. For that I have decided, in my mercy, to let you live."

"I see." I respond with a dumbstruck expression.

He offered a wolfish grin in response and said only this. "A glorious future awaits me Julius. I intend to make something of myself. Damask has given me the means to realize my destiny. But know this. I let you live. Every second of your life can be afforded to me. Remember that."

And with that he left me behind.

I started over just as I was told. No longer was I Julius Palpatine, but rather I had become Julius Pallopides. I moved to the far side of Naboo and apprenticed myself to a winemaker while I was completing my education. I inevitably bought my own vineyard and eventually married a beautiful woman who has stayed with me through good times and bad. She gave me three wonderful children, and for the longest time we were happy, for early on I decided that I would never repeat the grievous mistakes of my father.

I had not left the planet since _that day_, and for me the world became nothing more than a comfortable routine, an oasis of stability in a universe broiling in upheaval.

True to his word it seems that my brother made something of himself, first by getting elected Senator and then Supreme Chancellor of the Republic. I never bought into this kind old man garbage that he seemed to spew whenever he was on the news. I could see it in his eyes, as cold and sharp as ever, that nothing had changed. Whatever this man was, it was nothing but a front for a beast.

Not that I am not happy for him. I truly am glad he made something of his life as he had dreamed. I remained loyal to him by staying quiet, because in the end that is what brothers are for, right?

And then things got worse. War broke out, as inconceivable as that may be to some. The Republic collapsed and from the ashes an Empire arose with none other than my elder brother as its Emperor. I knew the truth though. The news claimed that the Jedi had attempted to assassinate him and that Palpatine was only forming an Empire for the greater good, but I saw through that. I saw what my brother was capable of on that day he murdered our family. I knew that he possessed the same powers that the Jedi possessed. I did my research very well shortly after he left. I knew what he had become. He had become a darksider, a Sith. That was the only explanation, he had become a Sith at the hands of that Muun Damask. Of course I could never prove it. My brother had covered his tracks well, and after the Empire was founded all research on the Force was banned and all knowledge of the subject was classified. He had yearned for greater power, and now he had achieved it at a cost most dear.

I was content to live my life quietly though. At least, until now.

It all started yesterday. I had been bottling my latest batch when my wife came to me looking like she had seen death itself. It turns out she hadn't seen death, but she had seen the closest thing to it. On her heels was a rather dour looking Imperial officer with a datapad in his hands. He handed the pad to me and informed me that I had been summoned by His Majesty the Emperor to Imperial Center to meet with him. The officer's face was etched with incredulity, as if he couldn't believe that an old man as unassuming as I could be worth a personal summoning from the Emperor of the galaxy.

And so, despite the protests of my wife (who still did not know of my relation to the Emperor) I boarded the officer's shuttle the next day with a few days' worth of clothing and a bottle of my finest wine. The trip passed uneventfully, though my sense of dread never eased up, and we inevitably reached Imperial Center.

I had seen pictures of it of course, but nothing could prepare me for the splendor and majesty that I saw. The city was glorious, a shimmering jewel of light that seemed to go on forever. Onwards the shuttle flew, and then I saw it, like a mountain towering above the cityscape rising up to touch the heavens, I saw it.

The Imperial Palace, the place where my brother the Emperor lived.

From the moment we landed I got the distinct feeling that I was not welcome in this place. The landing pad where we touched down was abandoned and the hallways I was escorted through were practically empty. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if my brother was embarrassed by my presence. My appearance did not exactly scream royalty, though I was born to a noble house. My luggage had been taken to a spare room and I found myself surrounded by stormtroopers clutching the wine bottle like it was the only lifeline I had.

The Palace was cavernous, dark, and rather depressing. The stain glass windows depicted important individuals and events. The arches and flying buttresses were large and sharp. Everything screamed power and intimidation. It suited my brother well. This palace was essentially a cathedral dedicated to the patron saint of the Empire, my brother the Emperor.

After what felt like hours of walking (the building was so large that it would not surprise me if that was indeed the case) we came to a large set of doors flanked by the scarlet robed men that I knew to be my brother's bodyguards. They stood as still as statues, but I knew that they were watching me, silently analyzing me and determining the best way to take me down.

And so I entered into the beast's inner sanctum.

I stood there for a moment just staring blankly at my surroundings. Like the rest of the Palace the Emperor's throne room was cavernous and dark. The throne was turned with its back to me so that I could not see the occupant. The only way that I knew someone sat in that chair was because a single, gnarled hand was tapping impatiently on the armrest. The other indicator was that a purple robed man was addressing the throne.

The man in question turned to me with a sneer. Evidently he disapproved of my presence, or my obvious breech in protocol (I think I was expected to kneel). Be that as it may he approached me and attempted to grab the bottle from me.

"I'm going to need to have that tested." He hissed. "I would be most remiss in my duties after all to allow potentially poisoned wine pass through the Emperor's lips."

Before the man could take the bottle though it flew from my hands towards the throne. The throne turned around and its occupant grabbed it with practiced ease.

"That won't be necessary Pestage." The figure said coldly. "I doubt my own flesh and blood would have the heart to poison me now, would you Julius?"

I just nodded, my eyes transfixed on the brother I hadn't seen in over sixty years. For it was indeed him, though I certainly could have been fooled into believing otherwise.

His face was horrific to behold. The scarring was severe and the skin was sagging and melted, much like that of a wax figure left out in the sun.

But those eyes, those terrible yellow eyes, the same eyes I saw all those years ago that bore into me with such intensity. And that voice. It is slightly different, less like the voice of a man but rather the croak of a frog, but still it possesses the exact same tone of self-assured superiority and smugness.

He seems amused by my stare, either that or the look of gobsmacked surprise on Pestage's face. Apparently he did not know that the Emperor possessed surviving relatives.

"Fetch us two glasses Pestage, I would like to have a drink." With a haphazard bow Pestage scurries off, leaving us alone.

For what feels like an eternity we just look at each other. The tension permeates the air. Finally I find something to say that will not likely anger him (my brother always had a temper when we were children, and I doubt it would ever vanish).

"It is good to see you again brother." I venture.

A ghost of a smile tugs at his lips as he takes a good look at me.

"Julius, the years have been most unkind to you." He observes. It is true to an extent. I have lost most of my hair, the remainder of which has turned bright white. My face is lined with the signs of struggle and age. It is the face of a man who has worked hard his entire life, and it is the face of a man who has carried a deep and dark secret.

I'm tempted for a moment to respond that they haven't been kind to him either, given his appearance, but I know better.

"It seems though that fortune has smiled on you greatly." I answer.

"Indeed." He responds. He looks down and observes the bottle in his hand. "Did you buy this?" He asks.

"No, I made it. I felt that, if I was going to meet you after all of these years that it would only be prudent to bring a gift. After all, this, uh, this should be a happy occasion."

The Emperor nods and continues to observe the bottle. I decide to speak again.

"How have you been brother?" I ask.

"Quite busy, Julius, quite busy." He responds cryptically. "What about you? What have you been up to since last we met?" He asks.

I tell him of course about the vineyard, my wife, my friends, my children, and about their loved ones. "My eldest son is expecting his first child in the next few months. The doctors say it is going to be a girl. It looks like you will be a grand-uncle." I say.

"You must be very satisfied with your life Julius." He says.

"I am very happy with the way things have turned out." I answer. "But, if I may ask, after all these years, why do you call upon me now? We haven't spoken in nearly 60 years. To be honest I thought that you hated me."

For a moment he observes me like an animal observing his prey. Then he gets up from his throne and starts to walk towards me. He speaks slowly yet clearly.

"Do not take such matters personally Julius, as I am not exactly capable of liking anyone. However, as I have already told you, I have been quite busy. My life has been consumed by the world of politics Julius, and I have found that the destiny I once spoke to you about has been nothing if not difficult to achieve. At long last though I achieved that which I sought out. After I achieved that, it was simply a matter of solidifying my hold on it."

"What is this destiny you speak of?" I ask.

"Power, Julius, unlimited and endless power." He responds. "In the end power is all that matters in this universe. Getting back to your first question though. I have summoned you here simply because I wished for two simple things. One: that I could see with my own eyes what had become of you, and two; so that you could see what became of your elder brother with you own eyes."

I give a nervous laugh at this and I ask, "Was it not enough that I knew that you had achieved all of this?"

"No." he responds. "Recently I felt the need to…reconnect with you, my brother, for today is a very important day."

"It is?" I ask, confused.

He laughs at this. It is a cold, high rasp that is sickening to hear. "Typical Julius, you haven't changed a bit. You never could remember such events. On this very day 60 years ago I was reborn, and you were there to witness it."

My blood runs cold, I recognize what he is talking about. _That day_.

"I…I try not to remember such things, with varying degrees of success I'm afraid to say."

He laughs again at this.

"You really haven't changed, have you. Oh Julius, you always were the squeamish one of the family. Never willing to risk anything, never willing to deal with the unending problem that was our family. You never had it in you to do what was absolutely necessary." He practically spits that last line in my face.

"I admit that father and the rest were not exactly the kindest people, and I understand that they tormented you, but I don't see why that is a reason to insult me."

"Always the diplomat, trying so hard to avoid conflict." He muses. "Perhaps you could have made it as an ambassador in another life."

"That is your calling brother, not mine." I respond.

"Indeed."

The doors open and Pestage returns with two glasses. The bottle is opened and the wine is poured.

I raise my glass. "A toast: to brother's reunited. May what was once divided be reunited and indivisible forever more."

"Here here." The Emperor responds with a mocking tone. Perhaps that is how he is now. I take a sip from my glass, as does he his.

"An exquisite taste Julius." He offers. But I can hardly hear him. The world is suddenly spinning. I feel very tired. I…I feel numb. I…I…why?

* * *

Julius collapses to the ground with a thud. I observe the corpse, mildly twitching with foam gushing from the mouth. I take another sip of the wine. I must admit my little brother certainly outdid himself. Pestage is staring as well. I look over to him and say, "I see that the poison you covered his glass in worked very well." Pestage doesn't asnwer, but instead he turns to me and asks, "Why precisely did you let him live all these years only to kill him now?"

"Therein lies quite the tale Grand Vizier, a tale best reserved for another time." I take a third sip and turn casually back to the throne. "I suppose that you have already dealt with his wife?"

Pestage nods. "We have already come up with a cover up to explain. Julius here was the unfortunate victim of pirates who destroyed his ship while he was visiting a prospective client on Coruscant. His wife took the news poorly and shot herself. Would you like us to deal with their children?"

I consider it, but ultimately decline. It isn't worth the attention or the effort.

As I wait for the cleaning services to dispose of the body I find myself considering old Julius and our childhood. He was certainly kinder to me than the others, but he wasn't nearly as good as he thought himself to be. Julius was at his core a weak individual. He tried to avoid confrontation whenever possible, keeping his head down and his mouth shut. He avoided Father and he avoided me in the futile hope of getting out of the situation unscathed. Even after the family's death I knew that one day I would kill him as well. Julius was a good man who deserved some peace and joy in life, but he was still a member of my family, and my family had to go. He was the last living remnant of my old life, my life before I discovered the glory of the Sith and the full power of the Darkside. The circle is now complete. What better way to celebrate the day of my rebirth than to see the last living remnant of my old life end. As I had told him before I let him live. He continued to exist because I permitted him to. To be honest I had almost forgotten that he still lived. I just decided one day that it was no longer necessary for him to be alive. I had no other real reason. It was simply not what I wanted anymore. Simple as that.

As his body is dragged off and Pestage leaves for his next appointment, I call out to him. "Grand Vizier, make sure that Julius's wine cellar is emptied completely and shipped here if you will. It would certainly be a shame to see good wine go to waste."

* * *

**The character of Julius Palpatine/Pallopides is a completely original take on the unnamed second brother that Palpatine is said to have in the Darth Plagueis Novel.**


	34. A Standard Day At The Office

**Steven-Good to hear from you and I'm glad you liked the chapter.**

**Ashla-You asked for something like this chapter back during your review of Chapter 25. Hope it meets with your approval.**

**Jepsie-I'm not very experienced with the Lovecraftian genre, but I'm sure there will be more gory chapters before the Chronicles are finished.**

**Loteva-neither did I. The things you discover rummaging around the Internet in your off hours.**

**Chocolate Teapot-As always thank you.**

**This chapter was inspired by a scene from that master piece of television, the British political drama House of Cards. Man would I pay to see Palpatine and Urquhart having a pint of beer and discussing politics. Please leave a Review!**

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The life of a Chancellor is one of endless privilege balanced out with endless responsibilities. At times it seems like the workload is unending and relentless. There is always something new. There is always a fiscal problem here, a diplomatic fiasco there, or a crisis somewhere else. Every day is a constant battle to push your agenda through that quagmire we call the forum of the people; the Senate.

At times it can almost seem like the job is not worth it, as in politics there are very few short term victories that really matter. In matters such as these it is essential to keep one's goals in perspective. The ends that I mean to achieve are well worth the daily grind.

That is not to say that the day to day workings of the Chancellorship are not completely devoid of amusement. There are times when I am allowed to put a bit of stick about and make these ignorant little peons jump. It is always an enjoyable experience, putting the fear of the Force into those who get out of line. Usually the job of keeping the troops in line with my vision is reserved to the Chief Whip, but for today an exception must be made.

This isn't your average Senator after all.

The day starts out as one would normally expect. An early morning Cabinet meeting that lasts about an hour, a strategy session with a few high ranking Admirals, rounded out with memos, briefings, proposed legislation and other bits of insignificant paperwork that form the back bone of governance.

At around 1400 hours the comm. on my desk begins to ring.

"Supreme Chancellor, Senator Free Ta is here to speak with you." My secretary says.

"Send him in." I respond. I set down a memo on resource allocation and turn to the Lord Speaker who has been standing by my side briefing me on a situation.

"This should be good." I murmur dryly.

The Speaker simply grimaces. "Let's get this thing over with." He hisses. Mas Amedda is certainly an excellent assistant, but he seems to have a disdain for the…_messier_ aspects of politics. It is beneath him in a sense. He is perfectly willing to bribe, murder, and threaten others to get what he wants, but there are seedier parts of this job that seem to make even him squirm in discomfort.

Speaking of seedier aspects, it seems our corpulent compatriot is making his way into the room.

Orn Free Ta, one of the more detestable rabble that makes up the Senate's membership. If one was to find a better example of the reason why the Sith seek to topple the Republic one would be hard pressed to look further than the rotund Twi'lek currently before me. Corrupt, decadent, self-indulgent, and immoral, Senator Free Ta and the vermin like him are the reason why this Republic is failing.

To be completely truthful over the centuries the Sith have gleefully caused such corruption to flourish and grow ever more plentiful within the Republic, but even before the rise of the Sith such men already existed, if perhaps in fewer number. To have such men elected to such high office and to have them get away with their impudence is nothing more than a damning indictment of this decrepit system that must soon be torn down.

"Your Excellency, Mr. Speaker." The Senator says by way of greeting, nodding to both of us..

"Please take a seat Senator Free Ta." I respond coldly. He seems very uneasy being here. I can sense the panic in his mind. His mind is spinning in circles trying to figure out why I have summoned him here. He knows that I am displeased with him.

As I've mentioned before normally for matters such as this a lower functionary would handle the matter, but this Senator is different. He is a very prominent member of the Senate and one of my most vocal supporters. It just so happens that recent actions that he has partaken in threaten to be revealed, seriously hampering my efforts and the image of my administration. This matter must be dealt with immediately, and I cannot trust the Whip to handle this. Sometimes a more personal touch is necessary. Not to mention quite enjoyable.

For what seems like an eternity the Office of the Supreme Chancellor falls deadly silent. Behind my desk I glare out at this fool who is regrettably necessary for my plans. The Senator you see is on several important committees, the Loyalist committee being just one of many. He is necessary for getting my legislation through the Senate, and, being my biggest supporter it could harm my reputation severely if this were to get revealed to the press. He squirms beneath my gaze. He now knows that I know. The only question going through his mind at the moment is "how much?"

"Senator, I've been hearing some rather…_unsettling_ news about you." Each word comes out slowly and methodically, dripping with venom.

"Un-unsettling, Supreme Chancellor?" He asks.

"It seems that you have gotten yourself into quite a mess Senator, and you haven't done much to help the image of the government either." I answer.

"S-s-so i-it seems." He stutters, mumbling and fidgeting like a petulant schoolboy brought before the headmaster, his eyes trying desperately to avoid my gaze. For a moment he is silent and then he tries to talk again. He isn't doing himself any favors.

"I'd just like to say how terribly sorry I am for…"

"You should have thought of that before you went off and pulled this little stunt." Amedda barks with barely restrained scorn. He picks up a datapad and hands it to me. I take a look at it; I've seen it before and all of the contents in its hideous glory. One wouldn't quite believe that he had the time for such extracurricular activities given his role in the Senate, but then again given my operations who am I to question how one spends their time? (except of course when it inconveniences me)

"This isn't the first time something like this has happened Senator. I suggest you take a good look at the files on this pad." I say while passing the pad across the desk to him. It is evident that the video is playing. The audio has, thankfully, been muted to ensure that it is not overheard. The noise is quite disturbing, even by my standards. Free Ta's cheeks turn the most amusing shade of crimson.

"I find it almost impossible to believe that the Senator who is huffing and puffing just to walk from his office to the Senate Chamber would have the energy for something like _that_." Amedda sneers. Free Ta's blush only deepens.

"You watched this?!" He asks, his voice a high pitched squeak of shame.

"We have, regrettably." I respond. "I needed to know the full scope of the damage you have caused, and I must say that it is quite significant."

I turn to the Amedda, who just so happens to be still scowling at a Senator who seems on the verge of tears. "Tell me Lord Speaker, is there anything we can do for him?"

"It wouldn't be easy Supreme Chancellor. I spoke with the officers that apprehended him. Needless to say they were not quite convinced by his excuse that he had stopped his speeder looking for directions to the _Senate_."

Bane's black legacy! That was the best excuse he could come up with! Is he that STUPID?!

I lean back in my chair. "Looking for directions to the _Senate_?" I repeat with a dumbfounded expression.

"It worked in the past." Senator Free Ta offers as a weak defense, only to shut his mouth at the implication that he has had to use this excuse in similar situations in the past.

My scowl only deepens. "You are damned lucky that my agents were able to get this file before the police obtained it. Do you know what is on that file?" I ask, my inner rage mounting. What I wouldn't give to throw him out the window.

He nods slowly.

I lean forward with my hands on the desk. I allow a little of Sidious to shine through the façade of Palpatine. Time for me to twist the knife a little more. "Tell me Senator, did you happen to know that one of those girls was _underage_?"

His eyes go wide. He starts to shake. "**WHAT**?" is all that he manages to utter.

I shake my head in disbelief and pinch the bridge of my nose.

"You had the inherent stupidity to go to one of the most disreputable brothels on the planet, a place where anyone with a modicum of common sense knows that they lure unsuspecting fools there, record them, and then use the recording as blackmail. On top of that, you had the bad luck of going at a time when the Coruscant Security Force was actively watching the building on grounds of illegal activity. It is bad enough that you got caught enjoying yourself with a harem of Twi'lek girls, but at least one of them was underage by about two years!" It is such a wonderful experience, the opportunity to yell at some fool for their inanity.

By this point he is practically sobbing. "I didn't know! They looked old enough. How was I supposed to know?!" He is practically hysterical. How disgusting to watch a grown man go to pieces like this. His pain and misery is quite a delectable experience though. For a few minutes I allow him to cry to himself, soaking up his pain and reveling in his inferiority and shame. How I love to watch them squirm.

A grin comes to my face. "It certainly is a good thing that no one will be pressing charges."

He looks up at me wide eyed, hoping beyond hope that I offer salvation.

"The officers on the scene were easy enough to silence. As for the proprietors of the organization you frequented, they were charged with illegal trafficking, prostitution and a dozen other infractions. Needless to say they are going away for a very long time, and few would be inclined to listen to any accusations they made given the circumstances. The only real evidence left is currently in your hands Senator. And of course, in a backup file currently in my possession."

He nods quickly. He understands completely. I have dirt on him and if he doesn't play ball things will get ugly for him very fast.

"Oh thank you Chancellor, thank you ever so much! If there is anything, anything at all that I can do for you…"

"Actually there is." I interrupt. "I heard another rumor about you Senator, something about you voting against my budget proposal for this year. Don't."

Senator Free Ta, though he is a corrupt womanizer has one element that some would consider to be redeeming; he loves his people and his planet. This year's budget though would significantly cut spending on reconstruction for war devastated planets, such as Ryloth, which was only liberated by the Republic from Separatist occupation recently. Due to his actions the suffering of his people shall be prolonged.

In the moment however this is lost on him, considering that he is free as a bird, for now at least.

"Of course, of course!" He says, getting up from his seat and heading towards the door.

"Oh, and Senator," I say. He turns back to me. "I'm not stupid enough to believe that something like this won't happen again. The next time your libido starts to act up kindly have the common decency to go to a brothel that understands the necessity of discretion. The Lord Speaker will provide you with a list of them at a later point I'm sure if you don't know of any yourself."

"Yes, thank you Chancellor, have a wonderful day, thank you ever so much." He's crying tears of joy. By the Force, pull it together man. At long last he is gone. That was fun. It isn't every day I get to threaten a person's career and future. It is moments like this that make this job all worth-while. The feeling of absolute power that one possesses over others in moments such as these brings with it a euphoria that no spice or drug could ever hope to replicate.

"What a pathetic little man. Where ever do they find them these days?" I ask.

Amedda rolls his eyes and, if it were possible, his grimace only deepens.

"Who knows? If I had an Anooba like that I would shoot it."

"Indeed."

A smirk comes to my face. The time is fast approaching when I will no longer need fools like these to get my way. In time I will no longer have to rely on the Senate for my power and all of those corrupt and incompetent beings shall be swept away in fire and in blood.


	35. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

**Jepsie: Thanks for the suggestion. You will see a chapter like that in the near future.**

**Steven: Thank you sir. I know right? As for the Amedda Wyyrlok connection, personally I doubt it. There are surely a lot of Chagrians out there.**

**Dark Kronus: As always you are filled to the brim with good ideas. I will certainly work on a chapter like that.**

**Chocolate Teapot: Already PMed you. Glad you are still enjoying it.**

**Ashla: Always good to keep people on their toes. Don't want to make things to predictable now do we?**

**Loteva: As always thank you. Here is one of your suggestions. I hope you enjoy it.**

**Please Leave a Review!**

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When I am long since dead and gone, how shall the people remember me? When I was first elected as a Senator I was a young and optimistic man. I believed that anything could be accomplished with good fashioned hard work and an iron will to achieve it. I was going to change everything. My Chancellorship would become a shining beacon of progress and reform. I was going to make everything better. I was going to reform the tax codes, stamp out corruption, reign in the Trade Federation, and enact a dozen other reforms.

I planned to shake the Republic from the malaise that it had been suffering and create a new era of greater prosperity and peace. Those who would oppose my reforms would surely fall before me, for I had the collective will of the people on my side. How could I fail?

In retrospect it seems that I might have bitten off slightly more than I could chew.

The short sighted and close minded individuals who favored the status quo of corruption and decay were far more entrenched than I had at first suspected. Every reform I attempted to initiate would die a slow and painful death either on the Senate floor or in committee. I was blocked at every turn and denied the opportunity to create real and lasting change for the better.

As I look back at the early years of my Chancellorship I cannot help but be bitter about it. How naïve I was then. I thought that I had the support of the people. I thought that I really could fix the system. I suppose this is the greatest fallacy of our democracy, any democracy really. Candidates promise the people the entire galaxy should they be elected. The worst part is that they oftentimes believe what they are saying. They believe in their own grandiose promises of a happy shining future in which poverty is eradicated and everyone is happy and the government is immaculate and incorruptible.

And then we actually get the job.

Needless to say the reality is not what any of us expected.

By its very nature politics is a seedy and corrupting business. Power corrupts after all, and politics revolves around the use of power. The bureaucracy and the corrupt were deeply entrenched and incapable of being moved.

As for the will of the people, well, I learned the hard way that the will of the people is not exactly a unified voice. The opinion of the masses is as fickle and without direction as the wind. It obeys no individual man and changes direction on a whim.

At the beginning of my career as a Senator I had hoped to be seen as a visionary, a reformer who would lead the Republic to its remembered glory. However as time went on and I found myself a two term Supreme Chancellor I reluctantly downgraded my hopes. I had hoped now to be remembered as a good man at the very least. But now, so many years after my ignominious retirement from office, I know now how I shall be remembered.

I will be remembered as a mediocre man.

That is the word that could best sum up my entire career in politics: mediocre.

I built an entire career, no, an entire life around my dedication to the cause of public service and I saw it collapsing in front of me with no way out. It all fell apart so quickly. I presided over an era of decline and corruption despite my best intentions. My enemies systematically ruined my plans and dragged my good name and the name of my family through the dirt with baseless accusations of corruption. Everything I ever worked for crashed and burned around me, and now I know why.

Palpatine was responsible.

When I had first met Senator Palpatine I had liked him almost instantly. He seemed to be a man who shared my ideals of creating a better tomorrow. He was so intelligent and he seemed to effortlessly get his way. He was also quite a humble man as well. While other Senators schemed endlessly for positions of power Palpatine seemed to be quite happy in his humble role as the representative of his people. He seemed to have an innate understanding of the galaxy and the people who populated it. And so I began to ask for his advice, advice that proved to me to be invaluable at the time.

While he had no actual title or legitimate place in my administration Palpatine soon found himself in a de facto capacity as my Senior Adviser.

Looking back I realize just how much of a fool I had been. He was using me to get what he wanted. It was his idea to abolish the free trade zones that had made the Trade Federation and other Mega corporations rich. It was this act that proved my undoing, as it led the Federation to blockade and later invade Naboo in protest.

I was sympathetic to the cause of Naboo, I truly was, but the bureaucracy and parliamentary procedure tied my hands and hobbled my efforts to help. I was their biggest supporter on Coruscant and tried my best to help them. It was then that my friends (what few that I had left) stabbed me in the back.

The Queen of Naboo, desperate to save her people from Federation brutality, proposed that the Senate call for a Vote of No Confidence in my leadership. I know that Palpatine put her up to it. After all, the crisis served the Senator's purposes quite well. Palpatine was independent of any political faction and had support from practically every party. If I was voted out of office he would be seen as the perfect compromise candidate. He used the suffering of his own people in order to win enough sympathy in order to be nominated and then elected Supreme Chancellor, ruining my life in the process.

I have no proof, but I know that Palpatine was the architect of my disgrace. One of his biggest supporters today, my old enemy Senator Orn Free Ta was responsible for the accusations of corruption and embezzlement that shattered my increasingly tenuous hold on power.

The worst part though was that just after Amidala's proposal was made the Senate began to echo with a chant that seemed to grow louder and louder.

_VOTE NOW! VOTE NOW! VOTE NOW!_

The Senate had been waiting for this. It seemed that everyone but me knew that this was coming, and they relished the opportunity to be rid of me, the man who had only tried to make things better. So hated was I that soon I became the first Chancellor in centuries to be thrown out of office by a Vote of No Confidence. It broke my heart and shattered what hope I had. I had worked so hard to achieve my dream. It all came down to this. Everything I had ever tried to do was about to be undone and there was nothing that I could do to avoid it. It was all over.

The actual number of people who voted against me was _staggering_ to say the least.

My career was in tatters, my legacy tainted with deception and incompetence. I would forever be seen as an incompetent, perhaps corrupt, Chancellor whose bumbling antics presided over an era of decline. What would my great ancestors say if they saw me now? The name of the great Valorum family would be forever stained by my perceived dishonor. And Palpatine helped to cause it.

In the years after my forced retirement I tried to stay out of sight and out of mind as the public held me in contempt. I tried to do what good deeds I could, but it was indeed a thankless job. I tried to do my best, helping refugees, building homes, going on inspirational speaking tours. But the legacy of my time in office seemed to hover over me like a black cloud, turning all that I touched to ash.

And all the while Palpatine is loved and cherished as my memory is forgotten. Why do they love him so? Under his rule the galaxy has been plunged into the first full scale war since the reformation of the Republic at the hands of my ancestor Tarsus Valorum. The Senate barters away the fundamental rights upon which this Republic was founded. Palpatine is asking us to compromise our liberty in exchange for security. And the people gladly surrender their freedom! How can they call Palpatine the indispensable man, the glue that holds the Republic together? He is systematically dismantling the Republic and the democracy upon which it is based. If there is one thing that I learned during my time in office it is that power corrupts, and that absolute power corrupts absolutely. We are creating a tyrant. Palpatine is a monster in the making and he will never give back the power that the Senate and the people have given him.

He is a tyrant. Behind that charming smile and those blue eyes there lies the heart of an animal. He stabbed me in the back before, and I know not to be taken in by such deception again. I have watched him from afar. I have no proof, but I have seen signs and acts that are to unlikely to be coincidence. His political enemies that pose a significant threat to his plans suddenly vanish or wind up dead (with no evidence to trace it back to our beloved Supreme Chancellor). His office continues to gather an unprecedented and unconstitutional amount of power, and the events of the war seem to benefit him and his supporters to no end. Amendment after amendment, the freedoms enshrined in the Constitution are repealed "for the duration of the emergency". The Republic is becoming a police state.

I see through his lies. Something must be done. This war is turning the Republic into something that it is not meant to be. We are sacrificing our most sacred beliefs in the name of pragmatism. There must be another way. There is another way. I will find this other way. I have no proof to back up my theories, but I know Palpatine is using this war to further his own ends, whatever they may be. I will uncover the proof I need, and Palpatine will be removed from office.

I once said in a speech that it was the spirit of helping one another that has made this Republic great, and will see it through its darker hours. Despite the disappointments that I have endured in my life I still believe this to be true. We must help one another if we are to survive this long night of conflict. We are starting to not care about one another, and it is that lack of basic caring that has caused our democracy to atrophy. But I do care. Despite its flaws I still believe in this Republic, and I am willing to do all that I can to save her in this, her darkest hour.

I will find the proof I need. I just need time. My musings are interrupted as the ship's intercom flares to life.

"This is your captain speaking. We will be lifting off in a matter of moments. I'd just like to say sit back, relax, and enjoy your trip. Thank you for choosing to ride on the _Star of Iskin_." As my ship lifts off I cannot help but feel a small amount of optimism. I can still make a difference. I can still change the galaxy for the better. Not even Palpatine can stop me, for I still serve the people.

* * *

The skies of Coruscant are lit up as a second sun is momentarily formed in the atmosphere. Shrapnel and fiery debris rain down upon the city below, slaughtering thousands. But the thousands who lost their lives in this dastardly attack pale in comparison to the real loss that occurred today. On this day one of the last hopes for the future of the Republic died a pitiful death. A dream and its dreamer died trying to preserve that which it cherished above all else, the cause of liberty and justice.

No one will ever know of or appreciate their sacrifice.

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"It is with a heavy heart that I announce today that, amongst the thousands who lost their lives in this dastardly attack by the Separatists was none other than former Supreme Chancellor Finis Valorum. My sincerest condolences go out to the friends and family of those lost in this catastrophe. I assure you my fellow citizens that this barbaric attack shall not go unpunished. We must work together to form a more secure and safe society for ourselves and for our children. But I cannot do this alone. I need your support to pass the necessary legislation that is needed to win the war against the Separatists. I know that we live in difficult times, but we must win this war to ensure the future peace and prosperity of this galaxy. We must all make sacrifices for the greater good. It is what Chancellor Valorum would have wanted."

A respectful applause follows as I turn around and leave the impromptu press conference that I had called in the aftermath of what the press is now calling the _Star of Iskin_ terrorist attack. Pathetic idiots the lot of them. They really are easy to fool. Valorum was a fool as well. Even at the end he was a contemptible idealist whose insufferable need to do what he considered to be the right thing came close to undoing all of my hard work. He had to go. But even in death Valorum will be useful to me. His demise will galvanize a panicked Senate to pass the laws which shall give me unlimited authority over this galaxy.

Valorum was well meaning, but ultimately he was a weak old man with delusions of grandeur. He sought to be loved by the people and to be remembered as a great leader like his ancestors before him. He was truly pathetic, always seeking approval and words of praise that would vindicate his ideas much like a pet seeks the approval of its master. In the end he was an idealistic fool through and through. He was incapable of compromising his principles or recognizing just how deep the rot went. He believed that he could save the Republic single handed. But he couldn't. No one can. The damage is irreversible. The Sith have seen to that. Old intellectuals like him had no place in the halls of power. He was a feeble minded fool who failed to see the worst in others until it was far to late. He was in the trap and screaming from the moment he assumed the Chancellorship. He just wasn't suited for the job. In reality I did him a favor by having him removed from office. In the end Valorum was indicative of Republic leaders, well meaning but incompetent. His inability to govern effectively or enact meaningful change sealed his fate. His striving was insignificant, his goals were unfulfilled, and his hopes were dashed. He hoped that he could stop me.

But there is nothing that can stop me. My ascendance is unavoidable.

I have foreseen it.


	36. A Smuggler's Perspective

**Darth Bellona: Welcome to the review page. I'm happy to have you here. I'm glad you enjoy what you see so far.**

**Ashla: I'm glad I'm keeping you guessing. Keeps things interesting that way I suppose. By the way, um, uh, not to be rude or anything, but, well, you know, WHEN IS TFII BEING UPDATED, I CAN'T GO ON MUCH LONGER WITHOUT IT?! Sorry about that, but I need my awesome fanfiction quota for the week.**

**Jepsie: Your request will probably be one or two chapters after this one. Thank you very much.**

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There is no place for rampant idealism in this galaxy, the Emperor saw to that. I've found that people with their heads in the clouds oftentimes end up face down in a pool of their own blood. And yet here I find myself surrounded on all sides by idealists and would be revolutionaries. They are a decent group of people to be sure, Hell, they are probably some of the finest people I've met in a long time. But that's the problem. I don't really care much for their little rebellion because frankly I think their cause was doomed from day one.

The Empire is just too big and too organized for anyone to damage it, let alone overthrow it. It's ruler is too smart to allow himself to be overthrown. I should know, I used to work for him.

In my relatively short time alive I've traveled from one side of this galaxy to the other and I've seen for myself the long reach of Palpatine's Empire. I've seen its supporters at work. I know how they think. Ever since old Palpy declared himself king of the universe the Empire's top goons have operated under a siege mentality. Vicious, callous, and ultimately as paranoid as their boss, the Imperials will go to any length to remind you that they are large and in charge, and don't you forget it.

I sympathize with the rebels, I really do. I don't like the Empire any more than most out here on the Rim, but frankly it is not my problem. I tried once to make a stand. I haven't told the kid or the princess yet, but I used to be an officer in the Imperial Military. I was young and stupid then (a little more world weary than others of my age, but optimistic comparing to myself in later years to be sure). I thought that I could make things better working with the system. You know, do my part, and maybe hope that my good work would rub off on others.

I'm not a person who is easily led to believe in things like good and evil. We live in a morally grey universe as far as I'm concerned. So take what I say to heart when I say with absolute and uncompromising certainty that I discovered during my time in the military that there is pure evil in this universe, and at the time I was working for it. I've never met the Emperor or seen him in person, but if there is one thing that I am certain of it is that he is the dark heart of the Empire from which all that is wrong with this system radiates outwards and trickles down to the everyday trooper that carries out their master's will.

The spooks running the military were the textbook definition of incompetent; a bunch of armchair generals who took an absurd amount of pleasure in droning on and on about the nature of dedication to the Imperial cause. The most politically orthodox of the bunch were the absolute worst, singing the Emperor's praises with no end in sight while senselessly sacrificing troops by the thousands. Let's just say that listening to Commander so and so give lecture after lecture on the virtues of Palpatine's New Order got old fast.

Then of course there was the racism. The Old Republic may have been run by a bunch of corrupt blowhards, but at least they didn't enslave other beings on account of them being "alien filth". I never really got the whole racism thing. Okay, so they look different. So what? What is the big deal? In my travels I've met plenty of aliens, and frankly most of them have more common sense than the entire Imperial military combined. But the Emperor seems to be a clever old man. It makes sense I suppose. It gives the stupid lower class workers a scapegoat to hate and divides society against itself, allowing the Emperor to have better control. It is a smart move. Horrible, but smart.

That is what got me drummed out of the service. I raised a weapon against a superior officer and had him stunned. Why? Because he was going to shoot a Wookiee that he had recently enslaved, a wookiee that had done nothing to deserve such hatred. I got dishonorably discharged as a result and went into smuggling. That wookiee was none other than my friend Chewbacca, and he has been at my side ever since.

Chewie has been a good friend over the years, and it is obvious that he sympathizes with the rebels even more than I do. In fact, if it wasn't for his life debt to me (which obligates him to serve the person who saved his life) I think that he would have joined the Rebellion in a heartbeat.

His people have suffered greatly at the hands of the Empire. Back in the days of the Old Republic Chewie says that his people were held in high regard in society. But with the dawn of the New Order the Wookiees found their homeworld overrun on Palpatine's orders and their people enslaved.

That is the problem with the Emperor. He's meddlesome. He just can't leave well enough alone. Rule one of smuggling is to know your limits. Rule two is don't be too greedy, or it will cost you. Rule three is know when to cut and run. But it seems that old Palps never heard about the rules of smuggling, and if he has he probably doesn't care. He needs to control everything. I've been to the Core Worlds and I've seen what they have become under the Emperor's rule. Palpatine has used these planets as his own personal playground, creating a laboratory in which he can experiment on and play with the people under his thumb. Enough is never enough for him, and he seems to have no idea just to what limit people are willing to pushed before they push back hard.

He seems to have a lot of fun pushing people around and plotting how to push people around. Now that I think of it he is a lot like Jabba the Hutt or any other crimelord I've run into. They both scheme away with morally questionable plans that are meant to increase their own personal wealth and prestige. In both cases they have no disregard for the people they manipulate and no personal qualms about the people they hurt.

Don't get me wrong, I'll kill someone without regret if I find myself in a tight spot (just ask Greedo) but I try to avoid collateral damage when I can. Palpatine doesn't care who gets hurt just as long as things get done.

I suppose this is why I only accept jobs in the Outer Rim now. The Empire's presence in these parts is less pronounced than it is anywhere else in the galaxy. It is best to keep out of sight and out of mind as far as Palpatine and his Empire is concerned. The Empire may be a monolith, but there are cracks in the armor just wide enough for a man, a wookiee and a small freighter to slip through undetected.

The thing is that I believe in freedom and being free. I just want to do my own thing and try to get by as I see fit. Palpatine though, he wants us all to live the way he wants us to. We're like droids to him, easily programmed, meant to be ordered about, and ultimately disposable. But that is not who I am. Han Solo takes orders from no one. I'm willing to fight for my own freedom, but I'm not exactly willing to lay my own life down on the line for the rest of the galaxy. My experiences in life have proven again and again that I should never risk my own skin for others when I don't have to.

I'm not really a philosophical guy or anything. I don't usually waste time pondering the great mysteries or wondering what could be, that isn't my style, but sometimes I wonder if the rebels ever could win.

I don't really think so. Maybe they have a fighting chance now that the Emperor's personal doomsday machine has been blown sky high (which I helped to do thank you very much) but the odds are against them. I've met men like the Emperor before. They are spiteful to a fault. He is going to do whatever he can to bring down the Rebels now, and his wrath certainly isn't going to be pretty.

The Emperor is an angry giant, slashing and burning everything and everyone that gets in his way. The Emperor is on a warpath now and he is going to show no mercy to anyone who defies him. I don't plan on being around when he comes a knocking. That is how men like me survive, we keep our heads down, or mouths shut and we stick to the shadows.

Either way, the Rebels probably won't win because of their ideals. They are to moral and self-righteous for their own good. The Emperor has no inhibitions when it comes to getting a job done. Bomb a city? Destroy a planet? Torture thousands? He'll do it in a heartbeat and he'll sleep well the next night. He is a creature without regrets or boundaries. All that matters to him is winning. But the rebels have their principles, principles that could keep them from doing what needs to be done and winning.

But I don't intend to stick around to see it. I have a bounty on my head that I have to deal with. The Emperor and his men are far away from here and are a minor problem for me personally. Out on the Rim folks have to deal with more immediate and pressing concerns than some genocidal dictator living on some far away planet. I wish the Rebels the best, but it isn't my war. The Emperor is just too powerful. The deck is stacked in his favor. I just don't see how you can oppose him openly and win.

I walk into the hangar bay towards the Falcon and I'm about to call Chewie and prepare for takeoff when I see Luke working on his X-wing.

"Hey kid, you seen Chewie?" I ask.

"He's in the command center giving Leia and the general some advice on a new base for the Alliance to settle down on." He responds.

Of course Chewie is helping out. He really is a true believer in the Rebel cause. Sometimes I wish I had his conviction.

"I was just about to finish up here and join them. Want to come with?" Luke asks.

I was about to tell him that I was leaving, but then I take a moment to look at Luke and our surroundings. Luke is still that farmboy I picked up on Tatooine, but the idealism has been tempered with something. A confidence, a determination to see a job carried out. But more than that, there is an optimism and a hope for a better future that is quite infectious. Throughout the hangar the men and women at work seem to possess the same quiet hope. Throughout the air there is a quiet determination and unbreakable will to do the job that they have all come together to perform.

And in that moment, for the briefest of seconds I allow myself to believe. The Emperor is a cynical old man who underestimates the will of some people and the desire for freedom that we all possess. What he sees as a weakness is in actuality a strength. He is a fool to believe that he can continue to rule when so many are beginning to oppose him.

My brain tries to remain rational, but there is a small voice in the back of my head that says "they can do this". I'm going to regret this aren't I?

"Yeah, sure kid, let's get going. We wouldn't want to keep Her Worshipfulness waiting now would we?"

Perhaps I'll stick around for a little while longer.


	37. Hostage Crisis

**Jepsie: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. Here is your request.**

**Chocolate Teapot: Yeah I decided to go on the safe side with the exposition just to be careful. I don't really expect that many people to know Han's backstory. I didn't until recently.**

**Darth Bellona: I'm glad that you like these chapters. I hope to hear more from you.**

**Ashla: Let's hope that I make it to 100,000. That would be a dream come true. If recommendations keep coming in I should squeeze by with a comfortable margin. Oh, and curse you for making us wait on TF2! :) I kid of course. I'm sure my skull will explode from sheer awesome when I read it. **

**Loteva: I'm glad that you enjoyed my characterization of Han.**

**This chapter was written by Personal Request of Jepsie. It is Palpatine's point of view on the Clone Wars episode Hostage Crisis, the final episode of Season One. Please Leave a Review!**

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The day to day minutiae of governance can be quite tedious at times. Days such as today would be considered dictionary definitions of the word dull. There are no pressing disasters to handle, no challenges to deal with, no scandals, and no dark secrets to uncover. It is just another day at the office here at the Executive Office Building of the Galactic Senate. I find myself going over the proposed Enhanced Privacy Invasion Bill that is about to be voted upon. It is a fairly self-explanatory piece of legislation, nothing more than a stepping stone on my path to ultimate power. It is sure to pass by a wide margin despite the efforts of one pesky Senator from Naboo and her little clique of self-righteous hypocrites.

I allow myself a moment to let my mind expand outwards. My senses sweep outwards towards the Senate Building and in my mind's eye I see without seeing. I sense a rather unusual disturbance in the Force. An unauthorized landing is taking place while a group of what appears to be bounty hunters disembarks from their speeder. Let's see. We have an assassin droid (an outlawed model no less), a Weequay brigand, two Separatist BX class commando droids, and rounding out the group a Duro wearing a rather large hat, apparently the leader of this little posse. It seems that the Force has sent me some entertainment in order to alleviate my boredom. How considerate.

It seems these bounty hunters came prepared. Sniper shots ring out from a nearby tower, taking out several of the Senate Commandos while the rest are quickly overrun by the men at the dock. A well thought out and well executed maneuver to be sure. How will they deal with the rest of security?

Ah yes the commando droids, a fine model of killing machine. It was a wise move to bring them along. I wonder how the bounty hunter came to possess them. The Separatists are not known for selling such high quality droids and I would know if the Separatists had planned this attack. But back to the droids. Their vocabulators are easily capable of mimicking the voices of others, allowing the droid to impersonate the recently deceased Senate Guard and inform central security that there is no problem. Very well planned. I wonder what will happen next. If only I had a drink to enjoy this with.

The group is quickly joined by a second group of bounty hunters that had been responsible for the sniping, this one being composed of a gaunt humanoid female, two more assassin droids and a Patrolian. I can sense the intent of their leader. His thoughts are not his own. He is strong minded, but his self-assurance in his own abilities reveals to me his intent. He is looking for a group of Senators to hold hostage.

For this bounty hunter, as luck would have it, a group of Senators, Amidala's allies, are gathering in the Senate Atrium to discuss the upcoming vote. Where is the leader of this little band of political misfits?

My senses spread out even further and soon enough I discover Amidala in her office with her beloved husband. Why am I not surprised? What are they going on about this time?

Something about Skywalker whining about them not being able to go on a vacation together (oh get over it)… Amidala preaching about their respective duties (again)…some more conversation that I suppose they think is witty banter but really just comes off as painfully stupid puppy love between two teenagers…and Anakin Skywalker giving Amidala his lightsaber. WHAT? Why did he do that? Apparently as proof of his love according to him.

Let me take a moment to think about this. He just gave his wife a long, hard cylindrical shaped object that gets larger as proof of his love? That's…disturbing to say the least. And now they are kissing. In her office; with the doors unlocked; just before the vote; while a dozen people desire her presence and know precisely where she is. It is as if they don't even try to keep this little affair a secret. Well this got boring quickly. I feel like I'm at the very beginning of a very poorly acted out pornographic hologram.

Back to the bounty hunters then!

The group moves quickly and efficiently. It is evident that they memorized their route. One wonders how precisely they could do this, as the plans on the Senate Building are classified. He couldn't have planned this little caper without the plans. It seems this Duro is quite the resourceful individual. How else could he have obtained classified documents? Where are they going? Ah the power control room. This bounty hunter really did think this plan out. The question of course is simple, what does he hope to gain by holding Senators hostage? I suppose that I shall find out soon.

I allow myself to do some research on the subject. After a minute or two of searching I uncover a file from the Government's central Bounty Hunter database.

Cad Bane. One of the more infamous of the underworld's inhabitants. Brutal, ruthless, intelligent and greedy to a fault. Allied with no movement but himself, all he cares for, according to his file, is money. My type of scum. Closing the file I extend my senses once more to watch as the show unfolds. It seems that Amidala has joined her compatriots in the atrium. Bane and his group have made quick work of the guards it seems. I know I cut the budget for the Senate Guard, but I didn't know my budget cuts would result in a group of guards this incompetent. Good help is so hard to come by it seems. Oh well, at least I get a safe front row seat to what is sure to be an enjoyable show.

In walks Mr. Bane. Two shots ring out. "Morning Senators," he says. "You should all consider yourself to be in my power." He is confident, bordering on cocky. He should be a little more careful. "As long as everybody behaves this should be quick and painless. Do nothing and it will all be over soon." His other companions quickly enter the room one by one during his speech with guns drawn, reinforcing Bane's words. A rather theatrical way of going about your job, but I do have a slight soft spot for the theatrical after all.

Senator Philo seems less than impressed, then again he has the self-preservation skills of a lump of clay. "I don't know who you think you are, but I for one have no intention of listening to such insolence." Yes that is a good idea Senator, antagonize the very threatening bounty hunter and try to walk away, that won't get you killed at all. Oh wait.

Down goes Senator Philo, shot in the back. Good riddance, I always hated listening to his incessant speeches on the Senate floor. Hmm, that's the third Gran Senator we've lost this year. First Senator Aak got killed by that car bomb, then Senator Kharrus got killed in a crash landing during that fiasco with the space pirate Hondo Ohnaka. Now this. Perhaps the Gran are cursed.

But back to the show. It seemed though that our regular broadcast of mayhem and panic is about to be interrupted by a rather unwanted interruption. The doors to my office slide open and in walks a certain Senator.

"Chancellor Palpatine!" He says.

"What is it Senator Free Ta?" I ask, allowing a little frustration into my voice. This had better be about the hostage crisis currently taking place. If he's come to me again about a mess he's gotten himself into with that pretty secretary of his I swear I'll…

"I think you should see this." He presses a button on the holographic projector and the image of Cad Bane appears. Oh thank goodness, it is about the hostage crisis. I've been running out of bribe money from that slush fund in order to keep his mistresses quiet.

"Sorry to bother you Chancellor but I've taken control of the East Wing of your Senate Building and the occupants are now my hostages. If you care about them I advise that you free Ziro the Hutt from your detention center." says Bane. He certainly is sure of himself a little to sure for my liking.

He has gone to such extreme measures just to save a Hutt? I suppose the Hutt Council must be willing to pay quite the hefty fee. Ziro has to have something on them. Why else would they be willing to pay Bane so much to do something like this? As for the Senators, well I don't really care for any of them. Actually if he were to kill them all now it would do me a great favor. But unfortunately in present company I have to keep up certain appearances. It would be so easy to just choke Bane and his men with the Force. Unfortunately there are too many witnesses. So it seems my hands are tied. I suppose that I shall have to play the concerned grandfatherly politician role. This is the part of the job I hate, pretending to be concerned when I'm not.

"You should know that the Republic does not take kindly to such threats. If you have attempted such a foolhardy action as to kidnap a Senator it will be met with appropriate force." I respond. Yes, appearances must be kept, but I know that Bane has a trick up his sleeves. In a moment he will reveal that he has control over the power and security systems. This is the part of the masquerade that I absolutely despise. I know everything but I must pretend to be ignorant. What a waste of my valuable time, playing this little game. It is beneath me to have to jump through hoops like a trained animal. Sure enough as soon as I think this thought the doors slam shut and the lights begin to flicker. Cue overly self confident gloating in three, two one…

"I'm in control, I make the rules now!"

Of course you are Bane, of course you are. I am only trapped because I allow myself to stay in this position. I could escape at any time of course, but I'd have to kill Orn Free Ta to do it and get away with it. I doubt though that I could explain away his sudden death. Oh well.

Appearances must be kept in present company, and so I must pretend to be helpless and try to escape. So I rush to the door and try to pry it open. "Orn Free Ta help me with this door." I order.

He doesn't even bother to try to help. "It's no use sir, someone has gotten to the central control panel. They've triggered the security system. The Senate Buildings have sealed themselves." He responds. I feel my contempt growing. It isn't helped by the fact that he didn't even try to open the door. At least I'm appearing to try to do something.

By the way, why is he saying this out loud in the first place? We both know how the security system works. The buildings go on lock down in the event of an emergency. It is like he is giving pointless exposition to some audience as if we were on a cheap holodrama. I can't believe this. Stuck in a room with Orn Free Ta. This was amusing at first, but now that I have to put up with this obese simpleton and actually pretend that I'm trying to do something about the situation I find the subject at hand to be increasingly annoying.

And so I rush over to the communications system. Bane has obviously gotten to the communications system by this point, but I have to look like I'm doing something in front of the blue oaf behind me "This is Chancellor Palpatine, there is an emergency at the Senate Building, Jedi Council come in. Is anyone there?" We are greeted only by static.

"That's no use either sir. They have cut off all communication with the outside." Free Ta declares. Tell me Senator, is there anything else obvious and stupid that you have to say. Perhaps you would like to tell me that my robes are red, or that the sky is blue. How about you go stand in the corner and hold that lamp on the table, we wouldn't want the table to be outperforming you when it comes to usefulness now would we?

Locked in a room with Senator Free Ta. Depending on how this goes I may have Bane and his group killed for putting me through this. Time seems to stretch on into eternity. Orn Free Ta paces back and forth behind me while I sit at my desk. This has stopped being amusing.

After what feels like an eternity I am granted a reprieve from Free Ta's pacing and complaining. Unfortunately that reprieve is Skywalker. I had been quietly following his "progress" for lack of a better word with the Force. He may not have his lightsaber on him, but by the Force boy, you have telekinetic powers. Use them to slam the bounty hunter and the droid into a wall. Or crush them to death. Oh wait Jedi never use their powers to inflict harm unless it is absolutely necessary. And even then they only do as little as possible. A Sith could have resolved this in less than ten seconds.

But as always appearances must be kept (I'm getting very tired of thinking that) and I must keep my mind focused on the present. "My dear boy I'm glad to know that you are there and all right." Putting in a touch of fatherly concern is an excellent addition if I do say so myself. The boy is so easily susceptible to my influence and the smallest amount of concern for him is all that it takes to wrap him around my finger.

I quickly relay what has happened thus far while Anakin was hiding under his wife's desk (oh joy, more accidental innuendo) and instruct him on what he must do. The line though is suddenly cut. The bounty hunters looking for him must have been getting nearer.

Time drags on. By now the mild amusement of watching guards getting blown to pieces has past completely and a seething frustration has taken root. I could easily end this, but to do so would be to reveal myself. A grudging admiration also begins to appear. Bane planned this out quite well. He could be a tremendous asset to me in the future. Perhaps this is the Force's way of uncovering for me a potential servant. Yes, Bane would make a fine underling. He has the skills and the tenacity to do anything that I want, for the right price of course. But with Sith money is no mere object.

Bane reappears, evidently to make his demands and give out instructions. "So here's what you're going to do. First you're going to make a pardon disk. You can give it to your friend there." He points to Free Ta, who happens to be looking even more confused than usual, if that is possible. Give the pardon disk to Free Ta? I'd be careful Bane, chances are Fee Ta would either lose it or accidentally eat it.

"Who, me?" Free Ta asks.

It is bad enough having to negotiate in a hostage crisis. It is even worse having to put up with such inferior individuals and play this pointless game when you possess the power to win in a moment. But the worst part is to have to do all of this and be locked in a room with a complete moron. Yes you Free Ta, there is no one else in this room! Mental note to self, after the Jedi are purged have Free Ta be one of the first up against a firing squad, right after Binks.

At this point though I am beyond caring what happens to the hostages. I don't even pay attention to the rest of Bane's little speech and my response is frankly one of those generic stock phrases that seems only natural in a crisis like this. I don't even pay attention to what I say, something about paying for this outrage or some such nonsense. It is so beneath me that I just cannot be bothered to pay attention.

The pardon disk is quickly made and ready to be used. I hand it over to the Senator, who naturally whines about having to be the one who has to do the unpleasant business of going to the prison and riding with the killer droid. I try and tune it out. By this point my mind is strictly on autopilot, ignoring those annoying voices. I have more important matters to think about. Before Free Ta leaves though I offer this simple platitude. "Sorry Senator, but everyone has a job to do." Your job is to be completely useless apparently. What, does he honestly expect the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic to leave his post for something as idiotic as a prisoner transfer? I have a crisis to pretend to care about.

It has certainly been a long day. Now it is just a matter of waiting until Bane contacts me again.

Sure enough the projector flickers to life and Bane appears again. "Well Mr. Chancellor," he begins, still as smug and sure of himself as when this little game began. "thanks to your calm leadership the crisis is past. I got what I want so I will return your Senate and your Senators. Enjoy them, but don't try anything until the sun sets. Understand?"

The transmission is cut and I allow myself to think. What should I do with Bane? Should he be allowed to live or should I have him killed. On the one hand he has defied me, and those who defy me must perish. On the other hand he is a bounty hunter. By his nature he has no allegiance to anything but his greed. He can be easily bought and kept with the allure of endless wealth. I could use an operative of his caliber. We'll see how this plays out.

My musings are interrupted as the window behind me shatters into thousands of pieces and clone commandos burst into my office. It only took them five hours. "All clear." One of them says. Approaching me the clone asks. "Sir are you alright?"

"Yes, yes I'm fine." I say with an annoyed and sarcastic bent. It's not as if I could have been cut to ribbons by those shards of glass. As the clone contacts Free Ta to inform him of my safety I take a moment to mourn the loss of a perfectly good window. They couldn't have just broken down the door?

Suddenly a message is transmitted that Bane and his group are surrounded by clones. It is almost over. On the projector Bane seems unworried that he is surrounded by clones. It is time for me to engage in a time honored tradition that has been passed down from Master to apprentice throughout Sith history, the overwhelming desire to gloat. "You were foolish to think that you could get away with this bounty hunter. Now lay down your arms and come quietly." Bane is rather non chalant about this whole affair. I wonder, does he have something planned that even I am not aware of?

"No Chancellor, it is you who has been foolish with your Senator's lives. One false move and the East Wing of the Senate Building goes up in smoke."

He's rigged the East Wing with explosives. Clever, very clever.

The question now is, should he be gunned down in a hail of blaster fire, or should he be allowed to go? If he dies over a dozen Senators end up dead. But their lives do not matters. No, what matters is that Skywalker could be killed. I have put to much time and investment into Anakin as a potential apprentice to see him die like this. There is only one option open.

"You win Bounty Hunter." For now.

The crisis is past. Skywalker will rescue the Senators, but Bane is a different quandary all together. I am reminded of the great Sith Lord Darth Bane, founder of the Rule of Two, whose intelligence was matched only by his ruthlessness. It seems that Cad Bane is carrying on the legacy of Lord Bane quite well, even though he does not know that he does so.

It is not often that I encounter individuals blind to the Force who possess such raw talent. I see great potential for this Bane in my service. He believes that he has beaten me, but I cannot be beaten. This was a rather annoying waste of time, but it is evident that this is the work of the Force. The Darkside has presented me with a tool to use in my war against the Jedi. If Bane can get into the Senate and accomplish his mission, surely he could go anywhere.

Even the Jedi Temple.

Behind the walls of the Temple there lies hidden knowledge that could prove most useful to me. Bane will help me to get it.

Enjoy your victory Bounty Hunter. But know that you live only due to pragmatism. You have proven yourself as a potential asset to my plans. Time will tell whether you live up to your reputation and to my new expectations. I expect great things from you in the coming months.


	38. The Nightmare Begins

_**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!**_

Panes of glass shatter as a single agonizing shriek echoes and reverberates for all to hear. Ceiling tiles and panels crumble and fall to the ground. Doors are blown open and a single unfortunate protocol droid standing in the corner finds itself crushed into a small clump of scrap metal. At the center of a veritable hurricane of rage lightening arcs and crackles with horrific intensity.

A single unfortunate officer lies dead upon the floor, burnt to a crisp. His only sin was to faithfully deliver a message to his master. The Master knows that the officer wasn't responsible for this message or the events surrounding it, but he cares little for such trivialities at the moment.

This isn't possible. It simply can't be true.

The Death Star, the very personification of my authority has been destroyed.

Destroyed by Rebels.

Such insolence! How dare these Rebels destroy my masterpiece. My very tribute to the Darkside, the very symbol of the New Order, gone in a puff of smoke due to a simple thermal exhaust shaft connected directly to the main reactor. Why can't they simply just lie down and die? I'll exterminate them all in the most painful way possible for this. They'll need to invent new words just to describe the suffering I plan to inflict on these fools. It is a mockery of my right to rule. It is wrong. No one makes a fool out of me and lives.

Decades of planning, millions of slaves worked to death, billions of tons in raw material invested, and trillions of credits spent, all of it blown to smithereens in a millisecond by some no name pilot and his little rag tag band of misfit would be revolutionaries. Unacceptable, absolutely UNACCEPTABLE!

My hand slams down on the intercom on my throne with enough force to break it. Soon enough another officer appears, clearly scared out of his mind.

"It's been five minutes Colonel. I ordered you to contact Lord Vader, where is he?" I bark, my body practically shaking with barely restrained outrage.

"We-we've been unable to c-contact Lord Vader S-s-sire, perhaps he was killed—AAAAHHHH!"

The Colonel's incompetence displeases me, and so with but a thought he finds himself suddenly being thrown out the window to plummet to his death. I know that Vader lives. Even half a galaxy away I can sense his pitiful presence limping to the nearest Imperial base with his tail between his legs. He should have prevented this! He has enough self-preservation skills to realize that it would be best for his health to avoid contact with me until my temper has cooled. I'll deal with him later then.

But just because Vader is out of my reach doesn't mean I can't punish someone responsible for this catastrophe. A shame that Tarkin is dead, gone down with the ship like any good commanding officer would. His arrogance and his belief in his own invincibility was responsible for this catastrophe as much as anything else. If he had scrambled the entire fighter division this never would have happened.

Again I slam on the intercom and this time a Major is summoned to my presence.

"Summon Bevel Lemelisk at once." I snap.

The Major nods and turns to carry out the task. Ten minutes he returned with an ashen look on his face.

"Your Majesty, Dr. Lemelisk has, has-" he stammers, looking absolutely terrrified.

"OUT WITH IT!" I have no patience for this stupidity. Not today.

"He has gone into hiding sir and refuses to contact you." The Major blurts out. The Major takes a hint from the murderous glint in my eyes, and so he turns around and jumps out the window the Colonel was thrown through earlier, plummeting to his death. He was evidently smarter than he looks.

For a third time I slam the intercom button. This time Ysanne Isard enters the throne room.

"I want your best agents to track down Bevel Lemelisk and bring him to me NOW!" I order.

"It will be done Your Majesty." The Intelligence Director responds.

Three days and twelve dead servants later Bevel Lemelisk, the engineer who designed and helped to construct the Death Star is brought before me kicking and screaming. I have something special planned for him. Locked in a glass cage and brought into my throne room Lemelisk looks terrified.

"I am most displeased with your performance, Lemelisk." I begin.

"I put a great amount of time and effort into the construction of this Death Star. This was to be my crowning achievement, the tool with which I would solidify my hold over the galaxy for all of eternity. When this project began I was promised an invincible doomsday device. That station could have brought me complete invincibility. Who in the galaxy could have opposed me with such glorious power at my disposal?"

I lean in closer until my forehead is pressed against the glass. Lemelisk tries to back into a corner, so terrified as my yellow eyes only seem to glow brighter with an intensity not seen outside of the fires of hell.

"I'll tell you who. One Rebel. One insignificant, no name rebel with a dilapidated fighter was able to get past a station's defense grid with was composed of a superlaser, over 22,000 turbolaser cannons and a compliment of 7,000 fighters. That same rebel was able to find the one flaw in your station and use it against us."

"My lord, it, it was only a small thermal exhaust port. I could not possibly have foreseen such a seemingly insignificant part of the design becoming such a problem." Lemelisk responds.

"I am not interested in your excuses you sniveling coward!" I announce, my voice filled with more venom than any deadly reptile. "I told you to account for any and all eventualities that could possibly create problems for us. You have failed at that task Lemelisk, and I do not tolerate failure." I press a different button on the right arm of my throne. "Time for dinner." I whisper. Holes in the floor inside the cage begin to open up, and one by one insects begin to fly up and into the cage.

Piranha beetles, such lovely specimens. Capable of devouring a rancor in a matter of hours, these 3 centimeter long carnivorous creatures are some of the deadliest insects in the known galaxy.

They haven't been fed today.

For a few moments they buzz lazily around the cage while Lemelisk cowers in the corner. And then, one flies forward and bites his hand. The rest of the swarm, smelling blood lunges as one towards Lemelisk. The feast commences. They rip and tear through flesh, burrowing into his skin as they eat their way to the center of his body. Blood spurts forth, covering the glass walls of the cage with oozing hot crimson. Globs of half chewed flesh fly forth, sliding slowly down the walls.

Apparently the sight of a man being consumed is too much for even a battle hardened soldier, as one of my Royal Guards flees from the room. The sound of him violently spewing his lunch against a nearby wall can be heard even above Lemelisk's agonized wails.

As I watch the Engineer being devoured I cannot help but think about the Death Star. So many resources and so much time wasted. The station's destruction has only emboldened the Rebels. The charred wreckage of the Death Star shall become another symbol for the Rebels to rally around. They think now that they actually have a chance at ending my rule. They are mistaken.

The idea of the Death Star is a sound one, had it not been for such an obvious design flaw. Its purpose, to deter dissent and display my power for all to see. It can work. It will work. It must work. I can make it work. The designers just need to be more careful this time around. I can still make my rule over the galaxy unshakable. This design flaw can be easily rectified. All is not yet lost. I can make this work. I will not back down. The rebels must be made to see my persistence. They must be made to know that there victory here is but a temporary setback. I will rebuild. I will regroup. I will reconquer. But I can't do it alone.

After about an hour Lemelisk's screams fade away, though the buzzing of his tormentors continues as they pick his carcass over to the bone. It is high time that I put my other long term project into the testing phase. Lemelisk will be an excellent test subject.

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Pain…so much pain. One would think that such agony was not possible. But it is. They are crawling beneath my skin, chewing muscles and splitting tendons, devouring organs. THEY'RE IN MY EYES!

With a jolt I wake up in a sweat. For but the briefest of moments I believe that it was all just a horrific nightmare. But it wasn't a nightmare. THIS is the nightmare.

I'm on an operating table with nothing but a sheet to cover me.

"The process was a complete success my Lord, it lives." A cold monotone voice declares.

My head turns and I see a medical droid conferring with the Emperor. But then my eyes traverse the room, and I see that the droid, the Emperor and I are not alone. I see me, and I see another person, also me. And there is me! Dozens of me, all suspended in cloning vats.

"What is this?" I croak with a voice that seems hoarse from screaming. The Emperor knows my thoughts. I can keep no secrets from him.

"No Lemelisk, it was no dream. You really did die." He approaches and looks down at me upon the table, looking at me much like any scientist would observe a live specimen about to be dissected; detached curiosity.

"But, just before your well-deserved death Lemelisk I came to an epiphany. I still need your mind. I have plans Lemelisk, and you will help to bring my dreams into the world of reality. So, before you died I reached out," The Emperor lifts his hand and with a bony forefinger he points at my heart. His hand is so cold. "And took your soul. Don't look so surprised Lemelisk. I am the Emperor after all. All of creation caters to my will. Not even that which could be considered to be supernatural can hope to oppose my desires."

"What is they bidding Master?" I find myself saying automatically. I'm too afraid to really do anything about the situation except listen and obey.

"You will put right that which has gone wrong." The Emperor responds cryptically. He begins to turn away from me as he observes one of the clones, one of me, suspended in liquid. "You are a prototype Lemelisk." He continues. "Long have I searched for the means that would grant me the life everlasting. After many years of research I finally came across the means. Up until now though my theories were just that, theories. I needed a test subject to see if the process of spirit transference could be accomplished without negative side-affects. Thus far the results are encouraging."

This should be impossible. The rational side of my mind screams that this cannot be. It is scientifically impossible! And yet, I see with my own eyes that it is true. My senses do not lie to me. Perhaps science cannot explain everything after all. Or maybe this is a kind of science that has just not been uncovered yet. Whatever the reason I am alive. But before I can ponder the full ramifications of this miracle my train of thought is interrupted.

"I task you Bevel with the arduous process of designing and overseeing the construction of a second Death Star. Make no mistake. The Rebels must be sent a clear message. I will not back down against them, not now, and not ever. If they destroy that which is mine I will rebuild and I shall make them pay. Soon I will be truly invincible Bevel. I trust that you have learned the error of your ways." The Emperor says.

I look into those glowing yellow eyes and I see chaos. He is mad. He has always been mad. He believes with this, this resurrection technology (for lack of a better term) in one hand and the Death Star in another he shall be truly invincible. Godlike even. Such a spiteful creature, willing to go to such horrific lengths just to punish his enemies! But what can I do? I cannot oppose him. I dare not risk anything again. I dare not experience such pain. I suppose it is better to serve the devil you know. And so I say only this.

"I shall begin at once my lord."

"That's the spirit Lemelisk." The Emperor responds. He turns to leave, but as he passes through the doorway he turns back to look at me, a demented smile plastered on his face. "Make sure that your progress on the new station remains on schedule Lemelisk, I should hate to have to waste my time devising new ways to kill you."

With that he is gone. I look again to the cloning vats filled with clones of me. My future bodies. My heart is filled with despair. Something like this _will_ happen again. He'll kill me again and again for his own sick amusement. There is no way out for me. I can't escape. I can't hide. I can't even kill myself to avoid the coming agony. He'll just bring me back.

The nightmare has begun.

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**Jepsie: I will definitely work on all of those recommendations in the future. Thank you very much.**

**Dark Kronus: This will be my next chapter. Thank you good sir for the recommendation. It is brilliant.**

**Chocolate Teapot: Glad you enjoyed this chapter.**

**No reviews from Ashla or Loteva this time around. That's kind of sad. Ah well, they'll come out of the woodwork eventually. For a very funny Palpatine reacts to the Death Star getting blown up video please go to Youtube and watch the Robot Chicken Video "The Emperor's phone call." It is funny.  
**

**Please Leave a Review!**


	39. The Council of Dark Lords

**Steven: Glad you enjoyed it.**

**Jepsie: Those videos are wonderful. Robot Chicken really is very good at comedy (animation not so much).**

**Loteva: Good to see you back and commenting. Yeah I felt that we were a little over due for some graphic violence, seeing as the Chronicles thus far has mostly been talking and pontificating.**

**Ashla: Yes, yes he did. I had hoped that the dividing line would indicate that a change was taking place, but I shall take your advice under consideration in the future. Thank you.**

**Chocolate Teapot: I'm glad that you found it frightening and gruesome. The story needed a little more horror to spice it up a notch.**

**There is going to be a little exposition on what holocrons are because frankly I don't expect many people to know what they are. Sorry for wasting your time for those of you who do know.**

**Please Leave a Review!**

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All is still and quiet, deep within the vault. Locked away in this pit is the collected wisdom of Sith long since past. The artifacts within lie dormant, dreaming dark nightmares while awaiting the touch of a living Sith. They yearn to wake from their slumber and reveal their knowledge to those worthy of the title of Darth.

The massive door to the vault hisses and screeches in protest as it slowly moves to open. The pitch black of the vault vanishes as the room is shrouded in pale light. A single shadow is formed, long and ominous as its owner stands on the threshold to the vault. He has not come down here in nearly four years. Now though he finds himself with the desire to seek the guidance of the ancients, for a dilemma has arisen, a dilemma that cannot be resolved on his own.

Three holocrons are selected. Such miraculous devices, holocrons. Capable of storing vast quantities of data, the holocrons are able to store the artificial personalities of their creators. All of their wisdom, memories, and collective experiences uploaded into a complex crystalline structure.

Calling upon the Darkside the man brushes his hand across each device, imbuing each with power and life.

Three figures appear as one. Each one clad in ceremonial robes and armor, radiating the power and Majesty of a Dark Lord.

Emperor Vitiate the Dreaded.

Darth Revan the Great.

Darth Bane the Reformer.

Each one the most feared and remembered Sith Lord of their era, undisputed masters of the Force.

"Revel in the glory of the Darkside oh disciple of the Sith. Allow yourself to be purged of all that is not one with the darkness. Let your rage open your mind, and allow yourself to become one with your hate." Vitiate declared by way of greeting.

"Were all Dark Lords so _melodramatic_ in ancient times?" Bane sneered sardonically.

"It seems that the successive generations are devoid of an appreciation for theatricality." Vitiate responded. "Present company excluded of course." He said, nodding to the only living creature in the room.

"There is a time and a place for all things." Revan quietly interrupted. "Now is not the time for beings long since dead to bicker. We have been summoned from our slumber. I doubt that, judging by the time we have known him, that Sidious would wake us for a matter that is not important."

"You have given yourself completely to the greatness of the Darkside Lord Sidious." Vitiate observed. This was true. Gone was the kindly form of Palpatine. Skin sagged and pale, rings were formed about the eyes, and pupils, once such an inviting shade of blue now glowing yellow like fire.

"I have." Sidious responded. "The Sith are victorious. My hegemony has been secured. The Jedi are scattered, and the Republic is dead."

"Is this why you have come to us Sidious?" Revan asked. "To gloat of your supposed triumph to mere ghosts? We are not the Sith we are based upon. We share their experiences, their knowledge, and even their memories up until the point of our holocron's creation, but we are not them. Why then do you find yourself suddenly with the desire to revel in your victory with mere echoes of the past?"

"I seek your guidance on a matter most important to my reign." Sidious responds. "I have acquired Skywalker as an apprentice."

"Ah yes, the Jedi Chosen One that you spoke of in our last meeting." Bane responded. "His connection to the Force supposedly makes him the strongest Force user of his age. I still stand by what I told you before Sidious. Based on your descriptions this Skywalker is far too unruly to control. It is a paradox I suppose. You need him under your control, but to control him he must be broken to obey you. And yet one could argue that his power comes from his uncontrollable nature."

"It is INSANITY." Vitiate interrupted. "The prophecies are rarely incorrect. You have brought into your service the means of your own damnation. That which is prophesied to destroy the Sith must be expunged from the galaxy before it can respond in kind! To actively seek this anomaly in the Force out and train it as your own rather than smother it in the cradle is a fool's gambit!"

"Is it not the nature of the Sith to seek out that which shall benefit him the most?" Sidious responded. "Either way the nature of power is fundamentally irrelevant. Skywalker, shortly after his rebirth as Lord Vader was mortally wounded in a duel with his former Jedi Master. He lives, but he is now more machine than man. His connection to the Force is diminished."

"You seek our council on your apprentice's future." Revan guessed.

"I do." Sidious responded.

"Cast him aside!" Vitiate hissed. "Weakened or not, he is still a threat if he is indeed the Jedi's Chosen One."

"Vitiate poses a valid argument, for once." Bane begrudgingly admitted. "It is indeed a sign of insanity for one Sith to train another who is potentially more powerful than oneself (even if the apprentice is weakened) and not expect them to turn against you if destiny has deigned it necessary. The vagueness of the Prophecy casts the situation in shadow though. You said that he is now more machine than man?"

"That is correct." Sidious answered.

"I advise that you move slowly then. Allow him to recover _some _of his former strength, but block him if he should seek to find a way that shall allow him to fully recover."

"Keep him firmly under your control." Revan suggested. "But do not make it appear that you are doing so. To flaunt the idea that he is under your dominion openly is to invite his contempt. Make him believe that you are trying to assist him, when in reality he shall serve you."

"Weakness has no place in the Sith Order." Vitiate interrupted. "To allow this Lord Vader to continue on in his pitiable existence is a mockery of the title of Darth."

"No wonder you plans failed Vitiate." Bane said. "You are far too bloodthirsty for your own good."

"Power is all that matters." Vitiate responded angrily. "Anything done in the acquisition of power is therefore justified."

"Power _IS_ all that matters, "Bane responded with a trace of coldness in his voice, "but the methods by which we acquire power is equally important. In one's pursuit of power one must avoid creating the circumstances that will inevitably lead to your downfall."

Bane turned away from Vitiate and looked to the waiting form of Sidious, whose patience for these bickering AI was beginning to wane.

"Remember this well Sidious. In pursuit of greater power we oftentimes create the circumstances of our own demise. There will always be those who oppose our desires. Even those who serve us can be pushed into opposition of our plans if our methods are too brutal."

"Such advice would carry more weight if it were not for the fact that the one giving it did not practice that which he preaches." Sidious observed. "If memory serves Lord Bane your manipulative plans were, and indeed are the stuff of legend to Sith. Many turned against you as the result of your plans, and such events almost lead to your downfall."

"The ability to manipulate others is a hallmark of the Sith." Revan said. "But everything must come in moderation. You cannot push your underlings to far Sidious, or they shall turn against you. You must treat them with a small amount of compassion. Just enough to endear them to you, but not enough to succumb to the nature of the Light."

"Compassion? Moderation? Jedi dogma!" Emperor Vitiate spat. "There is no place in the Sith for such ideas. They must be eradicated. There is no room for compromise on these matters. Our principles are our principles. If an apprentice seeks to overthrow you and succeeds then you deserve your fate. The same is true for an apprentice that should attempt to displace his Master and fail. Those who fail deserve death. Only the truly strong can rule!"

"A matter upon which we are all agreed." Sidious responded. "But we are dancing around the central question. What is to become of Vader?"

"Is he a capable subordinate?" Revan asked.

"Yes."

"Is he an able warrior?" Bane inquired.

"Yes."

"Is he capable of posing a risk to you on his own?" Vitiate questioned.

"At this point such an eventuality is most unlikely."

"Then for now retain him as your apprentice." Bane concluded. "If he is still strong enough to hold his own in a fight and carry out your will then he shall make for an adequate enforcer. Test him from time to time to ensure that his strength is not further diminished, but otherwise allow him to continue on. However, keep your senses clear and active. The time will inevitably come when one more potentially powerful than this Vader shall appear. When that day comes you must seek this individual out and make them your apprentice. And then dispose of Vader immediately. A feeble cyborg cannot be allowed to succeed you."

"Who said anything about succession?" Sidious inquired.

"It is the nature of the Sith." Revan answered. "The apprentice inevitably seeks to transplant the Master. Such an occurrence is inevitable."

"What if I told you that I was close to discovering a method that would break such a cycle?" Sidious asked in a cryptic tone.

"You speak of immortality Sidious." Vitiate responded. "Only one of our kind has actually discovered such a secret, and when his immortality was undone he took that secret to his grave. I should know, for I was that Sith."

"I am close to uncovering the means by which I shall achieve everlasting life." Sidious answered, a tone of pride escaping his throat. "Once such a feat has been accomplished I shall be truly invincible."

"Wherever arrogance and pride go Sidious, a fall follows quickly afterwards." Revan cautioned.

"Do not be enamored with your own success." Bane continued. "We three have seen and heard of hundreds of purported Dark Lords rise and fall because of their own arrogance. Do not allow your work to be unraveled because of your own hubris."

"Have I not gone further than any Sith before me?" Sidious asked, exasperated and increasingly angry with the apparitions before him. "Have I not established an Empire greater than any of my predecessors?"

Sidious began to pace, his voice grower louder with each question.

"Have I not destroyed the Jedi? Have I not succeeded where every other Sith Lord failed? Am I not then entitled to be confident in my success?"

"You said to us earlier that the Jedi Order was scattered, not destroyed." Revan observed delicately.

"A handful survived the purge. Lord Vader has terminated many of the stragglers, but some still live yet."

"Then our enemies are not yet destroyed." Vitiate roared. "If even a single Jedi survives they will regroup. The servants of the light are relentless. They will hound us without reprieve until we are all dead. I know this to be true Sidious, for I was there. I was there when the Jedi and the Republic military sacked Korriban at the end of the Great Hyperspace War and purged the worlds of Marka Ragnos' Empire of the Sith. I was there when they overran my Empire at the end of the Second Great Galactic War, slaughtering Sith Lords left and right. The Jedi are a virus. If but a single bacterium endures it will grow and multiply to plague us again."

"Those that survive are meaningless." Sidious countered. "They have no power base, no means of communicating with one another, and no way of opposing me. Let them hide away from me in the recesses of the Outer Rim Territories. Let them fear the splendid triumph of the Sith."

"Just because you have played your little game safely and won big does not mean that now, once power has been solidified under your command that you can throw caution to the wind." Revan rebuked. "If what you have said before is true, and you are close to uncovering the secrets of immortality, then the very future of the Sith Order rests in your hands. If anything should happen to you it will condemn the Sith and undo millennia of planning and progress."

"I did not reform the Sith just to see everything our Order stands for be undone by one arrogant fool with delusions of grandeur." Bane announced. "Though I am merely an artificial program I am still wise enough to recognize that look on your face Sidious. You have grown mad with power. You believe yourself beyond reproach and beyond harm. You are not immortal yet. You can be destroyed. You WILL be destroyed if you are not more cautious."

"Bah, the words of a timid old man who ran from battle and hid in a hole while your supposed comrades were slaughtered. I have no time to be criticized by a group of dead failures. I came here for an opinion on the future of my apprentice and I have received it. I take my leave of you _My Lords_" These last two words being said with heavy sarcasm. "You are mere empty shells, the pathetic bygones of an age of failure and indecision. I consign you to the ash heap of history to gather dust along with the rest of the relics in this vault."

With that Sidious allowed the Force powering the Holocrons to be cut off. He turned and left the vault behind. The doors swung shut, and darkness was again returned to the vault, except for the glowing, fading forms of the three Sith Lords. They knew that time was short. The holocrons only had a few minutes of power left before they deactivated. They turned to observe one another, and then, as one, they spoke with the voice of legion.

_Woe unto the Sith, for the prodigal son holds our future in his hands. The fate of millennia is his will to decide. How this shall end we know not, for the future is clouded. He knows not the path where he treads, for he is blind. Blind, blind, blind. Blinded by his own arrogance. The brightness of power has burned out his eyes, leaving only useless orbs in their sockets. The call of glory has deafened his ears so that he cannot hear our warnings. He learns nothing of the past. We offered our guidance, but it was a futile gesture. He walks the road to ruin and calls it the way to victory. And all the while our enemies plot and dream of our demise. Woe unto the Sith, for our greatest champion might yet be our greatest hindrance. All lies with him. The time fast approaches, the hour of the final reckoning draws nigh. All lies with him. The truth of the Prophecy shall be revealed. The truth of the One shall be made known. Tread carefully Lord Sidious, for your greatest challenge lies, not behind you, but ahead. The Will of the Force be done._


	40. A Loose End To Tie Up On Dathomir

**By personal request via PM I have decided to write this chapter. This chapter is dedicated to the person who requested it, BlackScyther. I know I said that I would put this up as an independent oneshot, but I felt later on that thematically what I was trying to write would have more impact if I put it in as a chapter of the Sidious Chronicles. Hopefully you understand. Also we never exactly figured out why Talzin was doing what she did since the show got the ax, so I'm basically making stuff up. Sorry. Please Leave a Review and enjoy.**

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Mandalore burns.

The fires of civil war rage as the carnage spreads unchecked across the surface. Deathwatch and civilian alike perish in the raging inferno. But in the capital of Sundari there exists an oasis of calm. A battle has only just ended in this place. The signs of battle are evident. Walls are dented and cracked. Scorch marks litter the ground. The air is alive with the residual hum of electricity. Two bodies lie on the ground, one just barely alive, the other most assuredly dead.

The only conscious being in the area observes his handiwork with a cold disconnect. Ochre eyes scan the carnage, ears listen to the distant wine of fired blasterbolts, and nasal passages inhale the pungent smell of smoke and burning flesh. The figure's cloak billows in the breeze, fabric flapping back and forth like a flag on the mast.

The figure turns to look at one of the fallen before him, horrifically burned from electrical discharges, just barely breathing, but alive nonetheless. The hooded figure allows himself a small smirk as he considers the broken form before him.

Maul certainly has changed in the time since last they had met. He had once been so loyal to his beloved Master, clinging to him like a loving pet. Even when he had grown into adulthood he had still displayed a slavish devotion to the Dark Lord. But now, now he has finally cast off that devotion. Not that it matters of course. The laws of the Sith are sacrosanct. There can only be Two, and those unable to unseat the Master on their own are deserving of extermination.

Why then does the Master not strike him down? There is something about Maul that indicates his potential usefulness in the future. What that use shall be is at this moment irrelevant. There are far more pressing matters to handle in the present.

Turning his gaze from the unconscious form of Maul Sidious focuses on his departed brother, one Savage Oppress. Sidious recalls his demise easily. The hulking brute had no finesse to his form, no grace in his step. He lacked the full intelligence required to anticipate the incoming blows of his opponent. His death was easily foreseen. But what happened next was less foreseeable. As Savage lay upon the cold ground dying, his body began to emit an odd green mist. At the time Sidious had not given the strange occurrence much thought or comment. There was still a duel to win and an ex-apprentice to taunt; but now that the battle was decidedly over Sidious found himself drawn to Savage's corpse. The changes that had occurred were simply amazing. Savage as Sidious had seen him had been a hulking creature, muscular, tall, and thuggish in appearance, overall less of a man and more of a wild beast. But now, in death Sidious sees almost a completely different person. This corpse is small and scruffy, and the face is both different and the same. The face of the Savage that Sidious had known was one of practiced cruelty and brutality. But this face was lined with sorrow, as if its owner was greatly saddened by the failure to his dear brother.

Having given this odd phenomenon a moment of thought Sidious came to the only real conclusion.

Such sorcery could only be the work of a Nightsister, one steeped in the power of the Darkside. Mother Talzin.

It is evident now that Talzin kidnapped this creature and subjected him to her vile "magic". She brainwashed this thing into a remorseless killer, utilizing her primitive art to turn an average man into a sociopath.

The Force is opened to Sidious and he sees without seeing. For so long Talzin's Nightsisters had lived in seclusion on distant Dathomir, practicing their archaic version of the Darkside. Evidently Talzin had sought to end this seclusion. Somehow she had managed to divine that Maul had survived and where he had fled to. She helped him to recover his strength and set Maul loose upon the galaxy, knowing that his little plans to build a power base would inevitably conflict with his former Master's ultimate goal.

The question is, why? Why would she do this? With the Nightsisters nothing as simple as an answer is quite so clear cut. Perhaps she developed delusions of grandeur and sought to conquer the galaxy on her own. Or maybe she did it for her own amusement. The reason behind this altercation is frankly irrelevant though. Because of Mother Talzin's meddling the Sith Grand Plan was, if only for the shortest of moments, put into jeopardy.

Such insolence cannot stand.

Without much further thought and a wave of his hand Sidious telekinetically lifted Maul and the body of Oppress into the air and moved to return to his shuttle. There could be no clues left to indicate the presence of the Sith.

Escaping from Mandalore is relatively easy for one trained in the Dark Arts. It helps that most people living in the capital are far too busy trying to survive to pay much of anything else any attention.

The trip to Dathomir passes without incident. Maul is quickly put into a deep coma that shall keep him from causing any unpleasant disturbances while his deceased brother is put in stasis to be disposed of at a later date.

In time the Dark Lord's shuttle drops out of hyperspace and begins its final approach to Dathomir. The landing procedure transpires smoothly, but the Sith's senses are heightened and on alert for any oncoming struggle.

Sidious had never met Talzin. He had interacted with many of the Witches of Dathomir in his travels, the Nightsister clans in particular. He had always held the Nightsisters in contempt, as they were a primitive bunch, clinging to superstitions and ancient rituals that frankly made little sense to him. But what disgusted Sidious the most was their relationship to the Force. They were practitioners of the Darkside as he was, but they held a set of ideas about it that Sidious found inherently repulsive.

The Nightsisters saw themselves as the servants of the Darkside. They made themselves slaves to it. They saw themselves and their goals as ultimately carrying out the Will of the Force. The only thing more important than the Will of the Force was their pathetic comaraderie, for though they utilized the power of the Darkside the still cared for one another

Such an ideology is blasphemous to the Sith. The Sith serve only themselves. They see themselves, not as the puppets of fate, but rather as the puppet masters, pulling the strings of destiny and twisting fate to suit their own desires. All that matters is the individual, and the individual's pursuit of power. All other things matter not.

Sidious had been disgusted by their ideology, but then again anything that was not completely in line with Sith teachings was inherently inferior as far as he was concerned.

Sidious would have been more than willing to ignore Mother Talzin and leave her to her own devices, but her scheming had attempted to interfere with the Sith Lord's plan.

As Sidious descended the ramp he could sense Talzin. She knew that he had arrived. He wanted her to know. There was no need to hide his true self from her. He was not here to decieve her.

He was here to destroy her.

As he traveled through the jungle Sidious came upon many a sign of battle. He had read the reports that Dooku and Grievous had sent him thoroughly. Dooku had ordered the Nightsisters annihilated and Grievous had carried out the order with zeal. The evidence of the battle lingered. The ground was littered with the bodies of the dead. Here and there scraps of metal indicated damaged droids and broken weaponry. The decayed bodies of Talzin's supposed "Army of the Dead" were rotting worse than the recently deceased, though they too were rank with the scent of death. Talzin never could call upon herself to abandon her old stomping grounds, even when it would be wise to abandon this place, never to return. She was nearby; Sidious knew this to be true.

As he continued to approach Sidious found himself in an unusual predicament. Out from the brush ravenous beasts began to attack him, their eyes glowing green with the power of the witches. Evidently Talzin had bewitched these creatures into doing her bidding. Sidious was most unimpressed, and dispatched the creatures that attacked him with ease. One fell with a swift stab by his lightsaber. Two more were electrocuted, and one suffocated to death with the Force. Onwards the Sith pressed. Soon he found his senses bombarded with illusions of imagined death traps and natural perils that would impede his progress. Talzin really was getting desperate if she thought that he could be fooled by simple mirages.

At long last he entered into an empty cave where the Nightsisters had evidently held their sacred ceremonies. She was there, and yet he did not see her. But he knew better than to rely on his sight alone.

"Come out witch. I know that you are in here." He hissed.

For but the briefest of moments there was no answer to his call. But then an emerald fog appeared, descending from the roof of the cave. At the center of the mist materialized the form of Mother Talzin.

"Lord Sidious." She acknowledged, bowing her head in greeting. Despite this relatively genial reception the Dark Lord could tell that the last of her clan was on the verge of losing control of her senses. He sensed her rage and her sorrow at the loss she had experienced. The presence of the Master of the man who had ruined her did not ease the tension.

"You know my name?" Sidious asked calmly, his voice betraying no emotion. The coming duel would be dissimilar to the one engaged in with Maul and Savage. This would not be a duel of lightsabers and applications of the Force. It would a duel of words and manipulation.

"I know many things Lord Sidious, many things that not even you would know." Talzin responded cryptically. Sidious considered this for a fleeting moment, and then moved on.

"I assume that the monsters and the illusions that I was subjected to were your handiwork. It was most…_un_impressive." The Sith sneered.

"You have come a long way Sith. I doubt that you would travel all of this way to visit a harmless old woman just to insult her." Talzin responded.

"You know full well why I have come to this wretched place." Sidious snapped.

"I assume then that Maul and Savage were unsuccessful?" Talzin asked with a trace of disappointment.

"Indeed." Sidious replied. "But I must know, why?"

"Why what?" Talzin asked.

"For centuries the Nightsisters have resided on Dathomir, cut off from and uncaring towards the greater galaxy. Whey then would their leader suddenly become so interested in interfering in affairs that do not concern them?"

"There are many possible answers to such a question Sith." Talzin began.

"Unlike the Sith we Nightsisters truly care, or rather, cared," At this point she paused and closed her eyes as if trying to block out a painful memory. "…for one another. Perhaps I discovered that it was you who had ordered Count Dooku to kill Asajj Ventress. We are fiercely protective of our own after all, and she was, by birth, one of us. Perhaps I set Savage and Maul loose on the galaxy in the hope that they would reap havoc upon your plans, thus avenging the slight that you had caused against our sister. After all, an attack on one is an attack on all."

Sidious watched and listened with wry amusement. She was letting her anger blind her. Good. He subtly manipulated the Darkside, allowing her emotions to grow stronger and more unchecked. She was getting so caught up in her little speech. Everything was going according to plan.

"Or maybe I felt that the time had come for the Nightsisters to supplant the Sith as the supreme order of Darkside adepts in the galaxy. Or maybe I just decided one day that I wanted power for myself and for my sisters. Or perchance I thought that it was the Will of the Force to bring Maul back into the galaxy so that he could supplant you. Perhaps it was all of these things. Or perhaps it was none of these things. Maybe…"

Talzin's rant was cut off mid-sentence as a bolt of Force lightning came towards her. In the blink of an eye Talzin, with a speed that belied her age reached up and absorbed the oncoming lightning with the palm of her left hand. With her right hand a bolt of emerald lightning shot forth, only to be caught be Sidious.

"Did you honestly think me foolish enough to lower my guard in front of you Sith?" She scorned.

"Actually, yes I did." Sidious responded. The lightning crackled and flashed, lashing out and impacting on the walls of the cave, sending rocks and dirt flying. This was a duel between two creatures born of the Darkside of the Force.

Such a duel is inherently different from a normal duel that one would expect between Jedi and Sith. Jedi by their nature use the Force for knowledge and defense, never to attack. They are restrained beings by nature, never using excessive brutality, only that which is absolutely necessary to ensure victory. The practitioners of the Darkside are restrained by no such thing. They care not for collateral damage or those innocents who may or may not be harmed in the crossfire. All that matters is victory. The means are therefore justified.

Rocks and boulders are thrown with impunity back and forth like a child's toy ball. With the Force Talzin causes stalactites to fall from the cave ceiling above, hoping to impale Sidious. Gathering the Darkside around him Sidious managed to dodge the falling rocks with skilled ease. With a feral snarl Sidious leapt into the air, lightsaber in hand hoping to impale the witch while he could, but before the Dark Lord struck Talzin vanished in a puff of green smoke.

Sidious extended his senses, searching for when Talzin would return. The same illusions that had haunted him earlier when he landed attempted to plague his senses, but this time the Sith successfully blocked them out.

_**BEHIND YOU!**_ The Force seemed to scream at him. He was able to turn and block Talzin's lightning just in time as bolts of emerald and white danced off of his crimson blade.

"You will die Sith!" Talzin yelled, the otherworldly echo to her voice deeper and more menacing than ever.

Sidious was still not impressed. Sidious reached out and put his hand in the stream of the lightning. And then he did the one thing that Talzin had not expected. He put the other saber away and, with his other hand absorbed the rest of the lightning. The bombardment was intense. The noise of the crackling lightning was deafening, the light nearly blinding. But Sidious stood his ground.

And then he took a step towards her. And then another, and another. The Sith became so close that he could have reached out and touched her. With a rage filled scream Sidious summoned the reserves of his wrath and redirected the energy back at Talzin. With a shriek of pain Talzin was thrown back into the wall, her body impacting into the rock with a sickening crack as arcs of lightning coursed through her body.

She fell to the ground with an anticlimactic thump.

Sidious did not relent. Cobalt lightning ripped through her body as Mother Talzin let out an otherworldly howl. For what seemed like an eternity he tortured her, long after her desperate pleas for clemency, long after her pleas for mercy became half understood cries.

There was no mercy. Sidious had informed Maul as such during their duel. The situation was no different here. All who defied him would burn. It was the cold, simple truth.

Sidious halted. How best to finish her off, he wondered? He looked around the ruined cave. That it had not collapsed on top of them was in and of itself a miracle. And then he spotted it, glinting in the dim light of the cave. This was evidently a cave where the Nightsisters had performed their most sacred rituals. Amongst the tools that had been strewn about the cave had been a ceremonial dagger.

This would do nicely.

With the Force Sidious summoned the dagger to his hand. He smiled at his reflection in the blade and then walked to where Talzin lay. She was still conscious, though her legs had been broken in the blast. She was weak and helpless, unable even to speak. He knelt by her side, staring into her eyes.

"This is the consequence of defiance witch." He said. He then raised the dagger and plunged it into her chest, but not deep enough to kill her.

She wouldn't die that easily.

Talzin had thought that she had experienced the apex of agony. She had thought that she had screamed herself hoarse from the pain incurred in the duel.

She was wrong.

Slowly, methodically Sidious sliced her chest open, taking his time as he savored her agony and her animalistic howls. When the cut was deep enough and long enough he cast the knife aside, and with his own hands began to pry her chest open. Ignoring her cries he saw what he wanted.

Her heart.

His eyes locked with hers, and without looking back, he reached into her chest, grabbed her heart, and tore it out of her body.

And then, as her eyes were widened with horror and she was still able to draw breath, Sidious took her heart in his hands, raised it up to show her, and then took a bite out of it.

This horrific site was the last thing Talzin ever saw. But before she died, she could hear Sidious speak one last time.

"Go now Mother. Go be one with your dear sisters."

And so Mother Talzin, the last of the Nightsisters, died.

Sidious would have said more, but he had stopped where he had for a very simple reason.

It was considered rude and in bad taste to speak with your mouth full.


	41. Of Admirals and Padawans

**Hey everyone. Sorry that I haven't been able to update in the last week or so. Real life got a lot busier and I didn't have the time or the energy to really write anything. But I am back, here to do more personal requests. So sit back and enjoy. This chapter takes place right after the events of the Citadel Arc. Please Leave a Review!**

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_"You lack faith in the Jedi."_

_"I find their tactics ineffective. The Jedi Code prevents them from going far enough to achieve victory, to do whatever it takes to win, the very reason why peacekeepers should not be leading a war."_- Anakin Skywalker and Captain Wilhuff Tarkin, 22 BBY

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A swirling storm of building anger and resentment is coming this way. At the epicenter of this storm is one _very _disgruntled fleet officer. This should be quite interesting. The doors slide open with a silent hiss and in walks Captain Tarkin, his face etched in a sneer as if he were thinking about something rather unpleasant or repulsive.

Standing before my desk he offers a prompt (if rather short and clipped) bow of respect.

"Your Excellency." He murmurs.

"Congratulations are in order my good Captain." I say. "Not only have you been recovered safe and sound, but the valuable information that you have recovered is now safely in Republic hands."

"I would not be so sure about that." Tarkin responds.

"Whatever do you mean?" I ask. It gets tiring at times to play the part of a man who knows nothing. Of course I know of the circumstances surrounding Tarkin's capture and subsequent rescue. Of course I know why he is so upset. After all, it was I who put him in the situation to begin with. But as always appearances must be kept, though it can be tiring at times to play the fool.

The Captain lets out a frustrated sigh. Evidently I am not the only one who finds prolonged exposure to Jedi to be exasperating. "It is quite the long and difficult story Supreme Chancellor." Tarkin begins. "As I mentioned in my preliminary report we had uncovered the coordinates of the Nexus Route. However, my commander, General Piell, thought it prudent that I should know only half of the information concerning the route, he the other, so that, upon our capture and subsequent interrogation, should one of us break, we would not be able to reveal the full truth to the Separatists."

"And General Piell was killed in combat shortly after giving his information to Commander Tano, yes Captain I read your report. I fail to see why you are so bothered." I respond.

"My problem is this Chancellor. Shortly after our return to Coruscant the Jedi Council insisted on having the two of us debriefed on the coordinates. I refused to comply, as I had been personally ordered by your Grace to divulge the information to you and to you alone. However the Commander stubbornly refused to give the information to me or to you, claiming that she would only divulge the information to the Council."

"I fail to see how this is a problem Captain. Master Yoda assured me that he would speak with me on the subject."

"The problem is not the Nexus Route coordinates Chancellor." Tarkin responds. "It is about a fundamentally more important issue that could very well cost us the war. This altercation with the coordinate reveals a more glaring problem with the chain of command. The Jedi Order is supposedly loyal to the Republic, and yet one of its own keeps this vital information to herself, refusing to reveal the information to you, her leader. Instead, she insists on giving the information only to the Council, which may or may not deign it necessary to include you into their plans."

"Your point Captain?"

"My point Chancellor is this; at this critical juncture in the war we cannot afford to keep secrets from one another, nor can we afford to play these little games of loyalty. In war all elements of the government and the military must work together in perfect harmony like a well oiled machine if victory is to be attained. The Jedi are wasting precious time debriefing Tano and deliberating on whether to give the information to you and when, time that we do not have. The chain of command is far to convoluted and is stacked in the favor of the Jedi. They have far too much authority over the Grand Army and the Navy."

"Surely they know what is best for the Republic." I respond innocently, choking back a bit of bile as I speak. Thankfully with time I have become a master at the art of lying through my teeth.

"The Jedi are supposedly the servants of the Republic Chancellor. They should be an extension of your will. If you were to command them to jump the only question they should ask is, how high? Instead they play by their own rules and withhold intelligence vital to the war effort from the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic and the Commander in Chief of the army who they are honor bound to serve obediently. The Jedi should be brought more firmly under your control sir."

Tarkin was always a skeptic when it came to the competency of the Jedi. I wonder if serving with and under them has altered his point of view at all.

"When we first met to discuss your appointment to the Navy Captain you admitted a certain skepticism regarding the ability of the Jedi to lead. Tell me, now that you have had some experience working with the Jedi on the inside, what is your opinion of them at present?"

Tarkin takes a moment to ponder the situation. "There is one Jedi, a General Skywalker, whose military aptitude has surpassed my expectations."

"Ah yes, Master Skywalker. A fine Jedi and a most loyal friend." I respond. Tarkin nods sagely. I can tell that his opinion of Anakin and his respect for his abilities has only increased due to my commendation of him. Evidently Tarkin thinks of me so highly that anyone deserving of my approval is deserving of his as well.

"The other Jedi however have sadly reaffirmed my earlier positions Your Excellency. The Jedi are unfit to lead." Tarkin continues. "Of all the Jedi I encountered in the field I was most put off by Commander Tano."

"By all accounts she is a competent soldier." I respond. She's also a snippy little brat, but more on that later.

"She's also fifteen years old. And yet she has been put in control of entire battalions and indeed fleets of ships! She is a naïve fool, blindly accepting of Jedi teachings that inhibit our ability to win the war. She lacks the experience or the mental capacity to adequately lead, and yet the Jedi insist on making her and every other apprentice responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of Republic lives and precious resources which are oftentimes squandered in poorly thought out operations. Nothing more adequately exemplifies this than my own rescue. Though the intelligence obtained was all that mattered many lives were lost in the rescue attempt to the point that the rescuers themselves needed rescuing. To be painfully blunt Chancellor I care little for the lives of our troops so long as the mission is accomplished, but at this most critical moment when the army is stretched as thinly as it is to see soldiers wasted so carelessly is concerning."

"What do you propose then Captain?" I ask.

"I am aware that you are trying to slowly phase the Jedi out of the military command structure Chancellor. The Jedi should not lead the army or make decisions that affect it. Rather, they should follow the commands of this office and a group of well trained and experienced military tacticians. If they insist on governing themselves then that is their own business, but they must be brought under greater scrutiny." He answers succinctly.

I take a moment to appraise Tarkin. He seems quite tired from his little adventure, tired but resolute nonetheless. This altercation at the Citadel was many things, but most importantly it was a test. Tarkin has the potential to be the greatest of my servants; I can see it in his eyes. But like all things great they can only be fully tested in a trial by fire. Did he really have the intellect to survive and escape such an elaborate fortress? How would he react when under fire? But most importantly, how would his opinion of the Jedi change?

I am satisfied with the results of this little test. Tarkin has proven his abilities as a capable leader. It is time now to begin moving the pieces into place.

"I am most pleased with your work Captain. I have watched your career and I am most impressed with your dedication to our Republic. You have proven yourself to be a resilient and intelligent officer whose loyalty and courage have never wavered. Therefore it is with great satisfaction that I hereby promote you to the rank of Vice Admiral."

Tarkin doesn't seem very surprised by his promotion, but he is evidently pleased. Evidently he has been anticipating a promotion for quite some time.

"I am honored Chancellor that you have placed your faith in me. Rest assured that you shall not regret this. I am also appreciative of your attentiveness to my concerns. I could never call myself a patriot if I was to sit quietly and watch these mistakes be carried to fruition. I assure you that I will make this Republic proud."

"I am sure that you will perform your duty soundly Admiral." I answer.

The debriefing continues on for another few hours, but I find myself ignoring Tarkin's platitudes and complaints. I nod my head once in a while to affirm to him that I am listening, but I have far more important matters to consider.

For some reason I find myself considering what the newly minted Admiral had to say about Commander Tano.

Young Ahsoka is quite the opportunity lying in wait. Evidently Anakin has grown quite attached to her, as I knew he would. Anakin's greatest flaw after all is his compassion. He grows so attached to those around him that to try and dislodge him is an agony for him to endure, an agony that he can never get over. I plan on using that against him, but how to do it? I suppose a simple assassin would work. Then again, where is the fun in that?

Ahsoka is Anakin's lynchpin. If something horrific were to happen to her it would permanently seal his fate. I doubt that it would drive him completely into the Darkside's embrace, but it would be just enough, just enough to ensure that there was no way of going back.

Yes Ahsoka is critical to my plans. Thus, since she is evidently so important to Anakin's coming fall perhaps it would be prudent of me to indulge in a little theatricality. Perhaps a little drama will serve, with a moral of course. It will certainly be entertaining. But the question remains; how to do it?

Perhaps a little schism in the Jedi family would do the trick. Maybe have a little carnage, a bit of mystery, a dash of intrigue, and of course, the set up.

Have Ahsoka be accused of a crime that she didn't commit. It would have to be big, and hit close to home. It is time that I started weaving the threads I have created into a grand tapestry of deceit that shall cover the Jedi and smother them in a web of lies.

For years now my agents have been funding and brewing dissent amongst certain segments of the Republic's citizenry. As the war progresses and more people die anti-Jedi sentiment has seen an upswing. There is a group on Coruscant that hates the Jedi deeply. They are well organized and have many connections, even amongst subversives in the Order itself. My agents and my directives have ensured that many Jedi have grown disenchanted with the Council's stance on the war, so disenchanted that they would be willing to ally themselves with terrorists in protest of what they see as moral degeneracy.

A little domestic terrorism might just be what the doctor ordered. I see it now, clear as crystal. A terrorist attack on the Jedi Temple itself! Orchestrated by anti-Jedi radicals, aided and abetted by a disgruntled member of the Jedi working on the inside! It could work. All of the pieces are in place. All that is needed is to have Ahsoka implicated for the crime. In one fell swoop I will be able to murder any number of Jedi and their supporters, implicate Anakin's apprentice in murder, and thus drive Skywalker closer to the Darkside.

It is all coming into focus. Tano will be implicated with false evidence, arrested, tried, and then executed for treason. And then, to complete the tragedy, evidence will arise after her death making it clear that Ahoska had been framed by the real culprit of the attack and that the Council had made a horrific mistake. Such a brilliant stroke would permanently drive a wedge between Skywalker and the Council, forever shattering his faith in the leadership of the Jedi.

But who will be the main culprit behind this attack? Hmm, where to find a disgruntled Jedi? It will need to be someone that no one really suspects. A Jedi whose moral hypocrisy is so great that, while they despise conflict would still be willing to use violence in protest of the Jedi involvement in the war.

I allow the tendrils of the Darkside to reach out as I am lost in the churning sea that is the Force. Time passes, but soon I hear a name, whispered to me by the powers that be.

_Barriss Offee_. _Use her._

A Jedi prodigy who just so happens to be close friends with Tano. Respected by all; hardly the type to do anything to radical, or so those who claim to know her would think. I know better. I can see into the depths of her soul. She struggles with herself and with the Force. I can feel it. She feels as if the entire universe and all that is good is collapsing around her. She feels like she is drowning in the growing flood of blood and violent fervor. She is perfect for the role to play. All I need now is to have my agents seek her out and have her form a connection with these Anti-Jedi civilians. After that she will do the heavy lifting for me. A little mental manipulation here and there will be all that is required of me. Barriss will be driven over the edge, seek the assistance of the radicals, acquire explosives which my agents shall provide, bomb the temple, and implicate Ahsoka as the guilty Jedi in the process. Brilliant, absolutely brilliant if I do say so myself, if perhaps a little over elaborate.

As Tarkin continues with his briefing I continue to ignore him, instead focusing on the fate of young Ahsoka. She has been a useful tool of mine, exacerbating Anakin's inability to let go of those he fears to lose. But the time is fast approaching when her usefulness will run out. She and Padme are all that stands between Anakin and darkness. They are anchors of light that hold him in the harbor of the Jedi. But soon I shall be rid of them. A storm is fast approaching. I can see the black clouds on the horizon. Against such a storm no anchor can hold their ship. Anakin will be swept away in the tempest of despair out into the sea of darkness, and together he and Tarkin shall serve me well.


	42. The White Knight Of The Republic

**Chocolate Teapot: I'm glad you liked it.**

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**Loteva: An excellent idea. It will be written before the month is out.**

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**By popular demand I give you this chapter. Please Leave a Review!**

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Deep within the military shipyards of Coruscant vessels of the Open Circle Fleet lift off in preparation for one of the final assaults of the Clone Wars. Two Jedi, old friends and brothers in arms separate from one another as one goes off to fulfill his destiny and secure his name in the history texts.

Obi-Wan Kenobi is on the war path, destined to participate in the ultimate climax of the greatest war in Galactic history. The target is none other than the architect of the atrocities perpetuated by the Confederacy, the infamous cyborg General Grievous.

The parting of these two friends is a low key affair. A few words are shared, a little light banter, a reassurance or two exchanged. Had these two known of the path that fate intended them to tread the two would surely not have parted company, at least, not without telling one another how much they valued their camaraderie. Years from now at least one of them would forever regret this moment, this small, otherwise forgettable span of minutes in the stream of time. This was his last chance, the last chance he would ever get to tell his old student that he loved him like a son and a brother; the last chance to tell his old apprentice that his friendship meant more to him than anything else that he had left.

But he does not say these things, for he cannot know what the future holds in store just around the corner. His mind is focused on the upcoming mission, a mission which will cripple the Separatist movement beyond repair and finally bring this long nightmare to a close. Or so he thinks.

This is the last time that these two shall meet as friends. In their lifetimes after this moment they shall only encounter each other twice more, and when they meet again they shall not embrace one another. They shall not exchange witty banter or enjoy the company of one another. They will not see themselves as brothers.

They shall see themselves as enemies to be hated.

As General Kenobi's flagship lifts off into the upper atmosphere Anakin Skywalker watches it go for but the briefest of moments, only to quickly turn around and depart. He has much more troubling matters on his mind, matters that will quickly come to a head.

And far away, in the distance where no one can see or know of him, a dark man sits in a dark place, thinking dark thoughts, watching and waiting like a predator in its den. In his mind's eye he can see what is happening, and he declares it to be good.

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It is almost time.

The last tether holding Anakin firmly to the light is now out of the way, his influence negated by the distances of space. Kenobi has finally departed for Utapau, just as planned. With any luck it shall be that world that becomes his tomb. Such an eventuality however is…unlikely. If I were a superstitious old man I would think that he possessed the luck of a devil. How else could one explain his ability to escape even the worst of death traps?

Kenobi was a persistent opponent, almost worthy of my respect. Over the years I have lost count of the number of times I have tried to have him killed, for the death of his beloved Master would surely be enough to shake Anakin's commitment to the principles of the Light. I've had Kenobi put in situations where he was shot at, blown up, tortured, kidnapped, enslaved, and beaten, and yet he has always managed to survive.

Not only survive, but manage to come out of every altercation with his will intact. No matter how many times he has been subjected to the most deplorable aspects of the galaxy he has still managed to endure with his basic faith in sentientkind intact. And that is what is so maddening. Lesser men would have thrown themselves into despair having experienced half of what Kenobi went through. He should have fallen into darkness years ago or succumbed to madness, and yet he continues on as if it truly did not bother him.

Throughout the war Count Dooku would repeatedly advocate that I abandon the plan to have Anakin join the Sith. Instead he argued that Obi-Wan was a much more suitable candidate for the job. Dooku believed that Kenobi was a much more intelligent and perceptive individual. While not as powerful in terms of raw Force sensitivity Kenobi had in his arsenal a highly analytical mind that was almost never clouded by emotional difficulties. Such faculties could be most useful to the Sith.

In contrast Anakin is, while very intelligent and perceptive, not exactly capable of handling his emotions properly. Dooku argued that this made him an unsuitable candidate. He reasoned that while the Sith fed on their hatred and their lust for power they should still be able to keep such impulses in check. Anakin is not capable of such control. He lacks clarity of focus, a clarity that his old Master possesses in spades.

All of Dooku's arguments held a basic truth to them, of that I could not deny, but there was a hole in his logic that undid the entire argument. Kenobi's mind was _too _clear. He is the consummate Jedi through and through. He has no desire for power, no need to advance himself at the expense of others. He has no bottom to him, no stomach for the deeper mysteries of the Force that the Jedi would find repulsive. He is able to detach himself from his emotions so easily that it is at times difficult, if not impossible to fully manipulate him.

The conversion of an individual from Light to Dark is an inherently emotional process. One must allow themselves to unleash their inner hatred and give in to their baser instincts. Kenobi is incapable of giving in. In order to push an individual into the snare of the Darkside one must play with their emotions and tempt them with that which they want. Kenobi sincerely believes that the Darkside holds nothing that he desires. That anyone should willingly give themselves over the Darkside is to him a completely alien and incomprehensible thought.

He is far to indoctrinated, far to set in his ways. In short his mind and personality have been molded by the Jedi Order to the point that it is incapable of being susceptible to the lure of the Sith. The Light has blinded him. In a sense it is a shame to see such a potentially intelligent creature go wasted in the service of the Jedi, but it matters not. Soon the most powerful Jedi in history shall serve my purposes; the fact that he is not capable of handling his more aggressive tendencies without being swept away by them is something that I shall deal with at a later date.

It is the greatest irony I suppose that the consummate Jedi should play such a role in this, the greatest tragedy that the galaxy has ever seen. Obi-Wan's emotional state is a bit of a paradox. He certainly feels, but at times is incapable of expressing these feelings to those he cares for. Obi-Wan simply wasn't ready. He was only a Padawan when old Qui-Gon was killed by Darth Maul on Naboo. He was certainly ready for the Trials of Knighthood, but he definitely wasn't ready to take on an apprentice. In any normal situation a newly minted Jedi Knight would spend a few years gaining experience before being given the task of training an apprentice.

But Obi-Wan is the slave of duty. He loved Qui-Gon Jinn as any son would love his father. He was duty bound to do what he could. And he saw it as his duty to carry out Qui-Gon's dying wish to personally oversee Anakin's training.

The relationship between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker brought new meaning to the term "tough love". Obi-Wan was somewhat stunted in the emotional department, incapable at times of expressing himself, deciding instead to simply let his feelings go. As far as Kenobi was concerned he believed that he didn't need to tell Anakin that he cared. He didn't need to say how proud he was, or how grateful he was that Anakin was a part of his life. He didn't need to tell a young Skywalker freshly torn from his mother at the tender age of nine that he was going to watch out for him and care for him.

He left these things largely unsaid because he thought that Anakin already knew.

Anakin is a vain creature by his nature. His dear mother had always told him how special he was all his life. And now there was this cold, impersonal creature that he called Master who rarely gave any compliments, only criticism. A Master who had him work hard and expected the world of him, a Master who put the weight of the galaxy on his apprentice and expected nothing less than absolute perfection every single time. That is how Anakin thought Kenobi to be. Anakin felt at times as if Kenobi was embarrassed by him.

Anakin's feelings on Kenobi were the textbook definition of a love/hate relationship. At times he would tell me how wonderful it was being apprenticed to one of the greatest Jedi of our era, and other times he raged about Kenobi's perceived unfairness and his willingness to hold Anakin back from that which he believed to be rightfully his.

If there is one thing that can be traced back and considered a root cause of Anakin's coming fall it is this, a lack of communication. Kenobi sincerely thought that he didn't need to constantly remind Anakin of how much he mattered to him, for he thought that Anakin already knew. Kenobi, being the fool that he was, sincerely thought that too much praise went directly to Skywalker's head, inflating his already swollen ego. The fact that this was true was irrelevant. But the manner in which Kenobi went about trying to correct the perceived problem was, well, less than ideal.

Obi-Wan had hoped that criticism would lead Anakin to an epiphany, a realization that he _was _becoming arrogant and that he needed to be more careful. At least, that is what Kenobi had hoped would happen. But then again when it came to matters relating to the Jedi Kenobi was far too idealistic for his own good. The reality of Obi-Wan's poorly thought out methods was simple; it only drove Anakin deeper into my control. The poor boy felt mistreated and unappreciated. And then along came kindly old Chancellor Palpatine with a pleasant smile, a shoulder to cry on, an attentive listening ear, and a voice dripping with praise and pride. Because of Kenobi's pitiful attempts to enforce discipline and mold Anakin into a proper Jedi the boy found himself more and more under my sway. All it really took was a few kind words here and there, coupled with Kenobi's bumbling teaching attempts, and the goal of finding a new apprentice in Anakin came that much closer to completion.

Kenobi was indeed the slave of duty. As far as he was concerned the needs of the Order and the Republic came first, personal relationships as a result being a distant second on his list of priorities. And so he let the friendship he had tried to forge with Anakin wither and fray. The weight of a thousand tiny arguments and perceived slights began to build up in the back of Anakin's mind, feeding his growing frustration and sense of helplessness about the situation he found himself in.

Soon Obi-Wan's failure will be complete. The last of the pieces is being moved into place. The clock is ticking down to zero, and soon the chimes shall ring. The bell doth toll for thee, Jedi.

I wonder, should Kenobi survive the trap I have lain for him on Utapau, when will his calm Jedi façade break? Will it break at all? After all Kenobi has been through much in his time as a Jedi. He has lost many friends and loved ones from Master Qui-Gon to his beloved Duchess Satine. He has experienced so much pain and misery. He has been witness to atrocities and listened to the cries of the desperate. And yet he has always managed to let go of his anger and his misery, for he is a Jedi after all, and Jedi do not allow themselves to be bogged down by such things. Like any Jedi he allows himself a brief moment to mourn for the loss of those close to him, and then, as any good Jedi would, release his sentiments into the Force.

What is about to ensue though is unlike anything any living creature has ever endured. He is the white knight of the Republic, the champion of democracy, the sword and the shield that protects it. He is The Negotiator, the bringer of peace, liberty, and fairness. All of these things though are about to be abolished. There will be no Republic, no democracy, and no liberty. There will be peace, but it shall be a peace brought about in a manner that any Jedi would find revolting. It shall be a peace brought about by the power of the truncheon. It shall be a peace ensured through terror and force. There will be no room for negotiation. There shall be tranquility. There shall be order. These things will be brought about by oppression, for the galaxy needs firm leadership, it needs strong men who know how to rule the masses firmly. The common being needs men like me to ensure that civilization grows stronger and continues to function properly, for they evidently cannot govern themselves.

Kenobi could not understand the necessity of these acts or the logic of my reasoning. He is far to proselytized in the dogmatic teachings of the Jedi. He could never be made to realize the rightness of the Sith. He is the embodiment of the Jedi ideal. He is obsolete. Men like him are the lingering remnant of a dying and undesirable age. There will be no place for him or men like him in my Empire.

For now the fate of Obi-Wan Kenobi is very much up in the air. It is possible that he shall be gunned down by his own troops as Order 66 entails, but Kenobi, being Kenobi, shall likely escape. By then though it shall matter not, for Anakin shall be in my service. Once one travels down the dark path forever it shall dominate your destiny. Nothing Obi-Wan could say shall save Anakin from the fate planned out for him.

Perhaps for drama's sake I shall have Anakin and Obi-Wan encounter one another after the former's conversion to the Sith. Obi-Wan is the slave of duty after all. And it is his duty to destroy the Sith.

Perhaps then the Republic's guardian angel shall finally fall into despair, for he shall be resigned to the fate of trying to kill the closest thing he had to a son and brother.


	43. The Stuff That Dreams Are Made Of

**Steven: I'll get to some of those in time, but the Maul vs. Kenobi that you are suggesting is Non-canon from what I can see. I don't really see how I could integrate that as a Sidious POV. Not everything in Star Wars **_**has**_** to be Palpatine related after all.**

**Jepsie: Not very familiar with the Ghentis stuff as I never read that comic. I don't really have the time or money to go and buy it either, but I could try based on the summary online.**

**Dark Kronus: I'll certainly put them all on my to-do list.**

**Loteva: Everyone is an insect as far as Palpatine is concerned. :) To be totally blunt everything could have been avoided if Obi-Wan and the Council had gotten the collective stick out of their butts and given this kid a hug. Then again I have MUCH more sympathy for Obi-Wan and Yoda than I do for Anakin. Seriously, Chosen One or not you've got to learn to get over yourself. You're a grown man for heaven's sake, stop acting like a spoiled ten year old and get a hold of yourself. This chapter is based off of your suggestion. I hope you like it.**

**Chocolate Teapot: I capitalized The Negotiator on purpose as that is an in universe nickname Obi-Wan had managed to pick up. It's kind of like Dark Lord or Chosen One. It is almost a title in and of itself. I hope that clarifies.**

**Special inspiration for a certain part of this chapter comes from Veriform's Revenge of the Sith Unauthorized Rewrite. If you want to read a really epic story, please read his Prequel Rewrite trilogy. It really is worth it. It is a thousand times better than my work. Please Leave a Review!**

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The line between that which is fantasy and that which is reality can often become quite blurred. What is illusion and what is truth should remain separate. And yet the barriers between these two distinct worlds are not as impermeable as one would think, or indeed hope. Dreams are a window through which one can peer into the depths of a man's soul. In dreams I see their hopes, their aspirations, and their fears. Ah their fears, the most useful of emotions. Of all emotions it is fear that is the most effective in furthering the cause of the Darkside.

Fear binds my servants to my cause. It motivates them to perform their duties well. It keeps them loyal. Fear attracts beings from all walks of life. The strong, the weak, the wise, the foolish, all hold fear in common. Fear is the universal emotion, the one driving force that binds all sentient creatures together. In the end every cause or motivation can be traced back to some form of fear. Individuals marry one another out of a fear of dying alone, either unloved or unsupported. People seek jobs and money out of a fear of being poor and homeless. They go to doctors and healers because they fear death, hoping and praying to find a way to postpone the Grim Reapers visit just a little while longer. And some seek power, for they fear that without power they shall find themselves at the mercy of others who _do_ possess power.

I am not one of those individuals. I have moved beyond fear. Such is the marking of a true Lord of the Sith.

I fear nothing.

But I do respect the power of fear. I also respect its usefulness.

As my old Master once told me, "tell me of your greatest fear, so I will know which I must force you to face." The subject of my little experiment has never told me what his greatest fear is, but I have always known. I can see it in his eyes, in his body language, and in the way he speaks. He fears the loss of that which he values more than all else. He fears losing the people he loves the most.

For my purposes fear can help make the fantastical a reality. There are many instruments at my disposal that can catapult fear into a living creature, twisting them into serving my purposes. For this specific subject however, circumstances demand that I implement fear in the form of dreams.

Now normally nightmares would be easily brushed off, but to Force Sensitive's dreams are not always simply the byproducts of an overactive mind. For those attuned to the great mystery are capable of a great many things. Amongst this arsenal granted to us by the Force is the power to receive visions. We can at times see into the future, though oftentimes such visions can be perplexing and annoying, even at the best of times. For a Master such as myself visions are clear and easy to come by. However few are as blessed as I when it comes to the prowess of peering into the mists of time to discern that which the future holds in store for us. For most Force Sensitive's, i.e. the Jedi Order, visions are uncontrollable and incredibly vague.

As my counterpart amongst the Jedi is fond of saying, "always in motion the future is." The visions that a Jedi may see in their dreams is oftentimes not what _will _happen, but what _could _happen. Only the past is forever set in stone. The future is much like a river, all you need to do is dam it up at the right place and you can easily alter the flow of history.

Because of the vagueness of these visions the Jedi find it highly dangerous to act upon them. To the Jedi visions are easily misinterpreted and, oftentimes, any action to try avoiding a potential future shall oftentimes result in that foreseen future coming to pass.

It is this last line of thought that I am counting on. Indeed, one could successfully maintain that this central idea is the cornerstone upon which my plans are built and the support beam that keeps it standing.

My target is none other than Anakin Skywalker, and with my prodigious power I have managed to send to him night after night the same vision.

It is a simple vision. He sees his beloved wife dying in childbirth again and again and again. This is but one potential future, but I have managed to block his attempts to uncover an alternate path. I have bombarded him repeatedly with the same vision over and over. To see your loved one die ad nauseam and be unable to aid them in their darkest hour would be enough to drive even the sanest man mad with grief and fear.

Anakin Skywalker is not _completely_ sane.

I have spent years prodding and pushing him. It was I after all who sent him the dreams of his mother's torture and death at the hands of the Sand People. It was I who put her in that situation in the first place, implanting the idea into the tribe of Tuskens that it would be an excellent course of action to kidnap and torture her. Since then it is I who has plagued Skywalker's sleeping moments with horrific nightmares. He has always complained to Kenobi and to myself that he has not slept well since before the war. His few moments of slumber are plagued with panic and death. He dreads sleep, for the nightmares are waiting in the wings, awaiting the moment that he loses consciousness so that they might return to vex him.

But it is not enough that he must experience nightmares in his moments of slumber. To ensure that Anakin's fall to darkness transpires without altercation it is necessary that his waking moments should be a nightmare as well.

War is the greatest waking nightmare for many. I have ensured that Anakin has seen the absolute worst of it. I have thrown him into the worst killing fields of this war. I have had him wade in the blood of the dying. I have had him step over the dead and wounded bodies of his own men in the field of battle. I have assaulted his ears with the shrieks of the dying and the pulsations of cannon and mortar. I have put him into situations where he has done terrible things. This is a nightmare beyond all imaginings, a horrific episode of agony and terror that refuses to release the one experiencing it.

Anakin's life has become a waking nightmare, and there is no possible way that he can wake up from this unadulterated catastrophe.

His mind is crumbling every day. His sanity is decaying from exhaustion and from lack of sleep. There is no reprieve from the fear and the pain. At times it can be pushed to the back of his mind, but it is always still there, buzzing lowly in his ears as he tries desperately to find some bliss in this hellish bad dream that is his life.

He will break soon. He is so close. The nightmare that is his life has slowly taken away all that he cares for. It has taken his mother. It has taken his apprentice. It has taken his faith, his innocence, and his hope. He will inevitably crack. At times the pain can seem overwhelming. I have seen him from a distance, in my mind's eye. When he is sure that he is alone the dashing and fearless hero that his friends and the people know and love vanishes. What is left is the real man, a terrified little nine year old boy crying desperately for mommy dearest to make the bad monsters go away. It is most amusing how quickly he comes apart when he thinks no one is there to see him. But he is never alone. I am always watching.

It pleases me to observe the Jedi's vaunted Chosen One curl up into a little ball in the corner of the room, rocking back and forth with tears in his eyes, arms shaking as they put the hilt of his lightsaber into his mouth, his finger hovering an inch above the ignition button. He doesn't go through with it though. He never does. It would be so easy though. There would be no pain and it would all be over so quickly. All he would have to do is press the button and then, sweet oblivion. No more pain, no more fear, no more stress, no nothing. Just release.

But he doesn't go through with it. And then of course comes the self-disgust and loathing at perceived weakness that inevitably follows one of these episodes, followed quickly by the self-pity and the desperate prayer that somehow he will find a way out of this pain.

The time is fast approaching. His sleep deprived brain is no longer capable of thinking rationally. He is desperate to maintain what few pleasures and joys that he has left. He will fight tooth and nail for them.

He would gladly sell his soul for them.

And now these visions come to him, the latest of many that bear ill tidings. He cannot think this through completely. Not anymore. All that he sees is a future that must be avoided by any means. It will be at this moment, in his darkest hour that I shall come to him with my offer. I shall tell him that the teachings of the Sith hold the power to save the one he loves. And then, the visions shall come to pass, not through inaction on Anakin's part, but by his own actions. That is the nature of visions. It is the philosophy of the Sith to ensure that the future you want becomes the future that comes to be. While the future is fluid as the Jedi believe it is up to us to change a truly great Sith Lord to change that future to fit his own designs. Anakin's own attempts to avoid this future shall ensure that it occurs, just as I had planned, and then he shall be firmly in my power.

What is left of Anakin Skywalker shall be completely destroyed. All evidence of the man who he once was shall be washed away, leaving only a broken body behind to be rebuilt. I have broken him down piece by piece, and when he is left a shattered husk prostrate at my feet I shall rebuild him. I will free him of the waking nightmare of his life as a Jedi and rid him of his fear. I shall forge him into something truly deserving of the glory of the Sith. And he shall stand by my side as my right hand in the coming Empire. And I will rule supreme.

That is my dream. And soon it shall become a reality.


	44. Do Or Do Not, There Is No Try

**Chocolate Teapot: Thanks for the review. It wouldn't be Palpatine if he wasn't the stuff of nightmares.**

**Jepsie: Rest assured I will be getting to your recommendation in due time, but there are some other ideas that I would like to knock off first.**

**Steven: I'm glad you think that. It wouldn't be a proper Palpatine story if he wasn't vile.**

**Loteva: I'm happy your suggestion paid off. Yeah I feel it was a combination of both, but Palpatine would naturally believe that he played the biggest role in Anakin's fall.**

**Ashla: The whole nightmare motif was metaphorical. I think it is actually a part of Canon that Palpatine found a way to avoid sleeping using the Darkside. No wonder he was so messed up. Even if your body doesn't need sleep anymore your brain still needs to rest at times.**

**Well guys, we are here. Over 100,000 words. 180 reviews and 11,483 views from all around the world as of this chapter. Each and every one of you has made this endeavor a worthwhile experience. To all of my reviewers and to all the lurkers out there, my sincerest thanks for your time, your enthusiasm, and for our joint love of all things Star Wars. This is not the end, this is only the beginning. **

**Special inspiration for this chapter comes from a scene from the Star Wars the Clone Wars Season 3 episode Witches of the Mist, which was in turn inspired by the memorable training of Luke by Yoda in The Empire Strikes Back.**

**Please Leave a Review!**

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Across the galaxy beings go across their mundane lives. The rich enjoy their privileges and the poor try to scratch out a meager existence. Factory workers attend to their machines and farmers toil their land. Politicians argue and bicker and officers of the law enforce their craft. They are typically average men and women, disgustingly normal, their lives trivial and ultimately expendable. They do not see that which should be seen. They live their lives unaware of a darker secret, a reality greater than themselves.

They are not aware of the grand and glorious plan that even now is being put into place. They do not know this, they cannot know this, but in places where few have even heard of the galaxy's most powerful creatures dwell. From the shadows they watch and wait, pulling the strings that alter the destiny of life across the known worlds that make up this pitiful thing they call the Galactic Republic.

But what do these fiends of the abyss do when they are not plotting for the establishment of their New Order? Why they prepare of course. Their predecessors knew that the broad scope and depth of their plan could not be fulfilled in their lifetime. And so they train themselves, passing on their knowledge and prowess to the next generation when not contributing to the plot.

They are the Dark Lords of the Sith, and even now, far from the prying eyes of civilization they prepare.

The two Dark Lords find themselves on a world with no name in the middle of a forest clearing, their shuttle parked but a kilometer away. One Sith, the apprentice to the other one's Master, stands between two large, grey boulders. His arms outstretched, his eyes closed in the deepest of concentration, his red hair matted and damp from sweat with his face screwed into an expression of deep frustration.

The Master, a tall, slender individual of alien origin watches his apprentice struggle with a dispassionate detachment.

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes which themselves feel like hours.

Nothing occurs.

The apprentice lets out a low growl, but otherwise holds his stance, arms outreached.

For but a single second, in a blink and you miss it moment one boulder shakes, but aside from this nothing transpires. After ten minutes the apprentice's concentration is rudely shattered as he feels his windpipe being constricted. In defiance of the laws of gravity the apprentice finds himself lifted into the air without anyone holding him, gasping and choking for breath.

"You are not trying hard enough Sidious." The Master condescendingly intones. As if bored with the strangulation of his apprentice the Master lets him fall and allows sweet oxygen to return to his deprived lungs.

Gasping for air young Sidious massages his throat. "But Lord Plagueis these boulders are too large. No man, no matter how strong, could lift even one. How am I expected then to lift two?"

The one called Plagueis shook his head in dismissal. "The illusion of weight is but one of the many things that you must unlearn Sidious. The realm of the physical world is insignificant compared to the power of the Force. Against the inherent majesty of the Darkside no object, no matter how large, can stand in opposition. I do not tolerate weakness Sidious. I know that you have great potential, but I cannot beat it out of you. I can help you along the path to greater power, but only you can unlock your own potential. Do you want this power?"

Sidious, whose gaze had remained firmly locked onto the ground before him looked up at his Master. His eyes glowed with a supernatural inferno, his face contorted into an absolute rage. To have failed so thoroughly at a task was embarrassing for the young noble, to say the least.

"More than anything." Sidious answered.

Plagueis nodded. "Again." He ordered.

And so once more Sidious resumed his position between the two boulders.

"Your body is a conduit of the Force young Sidious." Plagueis said. "You must allow the power of the Darkside to flow through you freely." Plagueis continued to observe his apprentice, his body strained in concentration and effort. "You must strengthen your connection to the Force young one. Your power is much like any muscle of the body; it only grows strong through regular exercise."

Whether Sidious had heard this lecture or not could not be discerned, as his concentration seemed so completely focused on the boulders that Plagueis could have left him behind and Sidious would not have noticed. Again the boulders shook, but otherwise they remained still.

Sidious collapsed to the ground, panting in exhaustion. "It isn't possible." He declared.

The apprentice's body was then wracked with agony as lightening lanced through his body. He fell to the ground as he writhed in pain. He tried his best not to scream. He had been humiliated as it was with this pointless little exercise, but the pain was too much to resist.

When he opened his eyes again he saw Plagueis standing over him, his face as cold and dismissive as ever.

"It is only impossible because you have declared it so." With a wave of his hand Sidious was lifted off of the ground and made to stand with the Force. The apprentice's legs threatened to give out beneath him, but Sidious willed himself to stand. He could not afford to look weak. Not now.

"I have said it before and I will say it again, you must unlearn that which you have learned. The Force binds the entire universe together. It controls everything. Nothing can stand against the concentrated effort of the Darkside."

Without further word Plagueis reached out towards the two boulders, the sleeves of his robes falling back to reveal long grey fingers outstretched. With practiced ease Plagueis raised his arms into the air. Without resistance the boulders lifted high into the air. Sidious' eyes went wide in awe as he saw the impossible made possible. The Dark Lord rotated his hands in the air. The boulders followed suit, spinning faster and faster in a perfect geometric circle around them. And then Plagueis stopped. The boulders stopped. He began spinning his arm clockwise. The boulders themselves began to spin clockwise as if they were being juggled by an angry giant.

While Sidious was in awe, a portion of his mind seethed and bubbled with indignation. Now he is just showing off, Sidious thought to himself. He taunts me. He abuses me and makes me suffer, dangling the keys to absolute power just out of my reach. I would kill him if he were any other man. But the power, oh the power he promises me. I must have it.

Plagueis allowed his arms to fall to his side. For but a moment the boulders hung suspended in the air. And then gravity resumed its control and the boulders fell into their original positions with a ground shaking thud.

"I don't believe it." Sidious allowed himself to say, his self-control temporarily forgotten. He regretted this gaffe immediately, as another bolt of lightning struck him in the back. Sidious looked up at his Master, whose smug expression never changed.

"That is why you fail Sidious." He said. "The Force is the very definition of power and control. It shapes the destiny of all objects and all life that we know of. Therefore, those who control the Force unopposed control the galaxy."

He knelt down to where Sidious was kneeling. Reaching out Plagueis grabbed Sidious by the chin, forcing him to look into the Sith Lord's gaunt face. "Those without the power of the Force are the slaves of destiny. They have no control and no freedom over their own lives. Any control or power that they believe themselves to have is either fleeting or an illusion all together. The Force. Will. Free. Me. That is possibly the most important line of the Sith code Sidious. We are blessed with the ability to tap into the wellspring of power that is the Force. We have within ourselves the capacity to defy fate and rewrite destiny to suit our own goals. How many others can say that?"

Plagueis got up and returned to his original position. "But before you can run you must know how to walk. Before you can walk you must learn how to crawl. You are a noble by birth Sidious. You are used to getting all that you desire quickly and without delay. But that which is actually deserving of your desire, raw power, will only come when you have made it to. You must learn to be patient. The secrets of the universe will not reveal themselves all at once. You must grow at your own pace. You must become used to the currents of the Force, adept to the messages that it sends to you."

"How can I do as you say, Master?" Sidious asked.

Plagueis took a moment to consider this question. Sidious immediately knew what was coming and attempted to brace himself.

"You must channel your hatred." Plagueis hissed. Another blast of Force lightning ripped through Sidious' already wounded form.

"I hate you." Sidious spat.

For the first time since this exercise began the ghost of a smile flickered for but a moment across the face of Darth Plagueis the Wise.

"Very good, let your rage build. That is the nature of our relationship. It is the nature of all Sith, is it not? But as Darth Traya once said, "To be bound together by hatred is a fragile alliance at best." Hatred is but the beginning though my apprentice. Hatred is the means by which we achieve power, and power is what binds us together. As Bane himself once said, "One to embody power, the other to crave it." I embody that power, and you," Plagueis paused, seeming to enjoy his apprentice's anger and pain. "…you crave it. Focus your hatred. Become a conduit of the Darkside by allowing the anger within you to build to a crescendo. But do not let it consume you. Let the fires of rage fuel your power, but do not let the inferno burn out of control. Now my young apprentice, do it again."

The two resumed their positions. Sidious allowed his anger to build. He thought of Plagueis, the alien who held him back and tormented him for things that he could not possibly know. He thought of his family, weak minded fools who had berated him and failed to understand his true greatness. He thought of his teachers who had dismissed him as another pupil when they had failed to see his genius. He thought of his peers who had resented his wealth and superiority. He thought of every waking moment of his entire life before joining the Sith, a life of mediocrity and unfullfillment, a life bursting with desire for a greater future and a silent desperation to be rid of the insolent fools who dismissed him as nothing.

He thought of these thrice accursed boulders that refused to yield to his desire. He bottled up all of this rage, compressed it like a star about to undergo supernova, and in a single concentrated effort he unleashed all of his frustration towards the boulders. In his mind he practically screamed. YOU! WILL! DO! AS! I! COMMAND!

The boulders shot into the air as if they had been fired from a cannon. They hung in the air as Sidious let out a savage scream of anger and triumph. For what seemed like an eternity they hung in the air. Plagueis smiled and made a gesture indicating that Sidious could let them down now.

"You have taken your first tentative step into a larger world young Sidious. The road ahead shall be difficult, but with you under my tutelage I shall mold you like clay into a truly great Sith. Now…"

In a gesture faster than Sidious could respond to Plagueis lifted his left arm and another bolt of lightning tore into Sidious, causing him to reel as his world exploded into pain.

"…I want you to lift those boulders 50 more times. And then maybe I'll grant you a short moment's respite."


	45. The Devil's Descent Into Hell

**Chocolate Teapot: I'm glad you liked it.**

**Jepsie: I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter. We'll be getting more of Plagueis later, of that I'm positive.**

**Ashla: Such a stirring recommendation. It really brings a smile to my face to get such a recommendation from my readers. Thank you.**

**Loteva: Always great to hear from you. **

**Please Leave a Review!**

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The engines whine and howl as the ship descends through the clouds of poisonous gas and soot to touch down on the landing pad. Just as my shuttle lands I can sense another ship taking off into the upper atmosphere.

Kenobi and Amidala are on board, fleeing for their lives.

Lord Vader has failed to kill them, though my senses clearly indicate that Amidala is growing feebler every moment. She won't last long.

Thank the Force for small miracles. But their escape matters little at the moment. I sense that far more pressing matters await my attendance by a nearby river of lava.

I can sense Lord Vader in the distance, but his presence is somehow diminished. His connection to the Living Force is wavering. I find myself breaking into a run, two Clone Shocktroopers racing to keep up. My face is stung by the burning breeze of this wretched world. I myself should be boiling alive beneath these voluminous black robes, but the power of the Darkside is enough to keep the sweltering heat at bay.

For a moment my mind is plagued with worry. _Don't be dead, don't be dead. I've put too much time and effort into you to have you dying on me now._

In the distance I can see a small form twitching and clawing upon the ground on the bank of a river of lava.

"Your Majesty, this way." One of the clones yells, seeing what I had already seen.

"There he is. He's still alive." That he lives is a miracle unto itself. I did not think that Kenobi would have it in him to leave his old apprentice in such a _horrific_ state.

He has no organic limbs left. Both of his legs beneath the knees are gone. All that is left is his artificial arm. The skin is charred and burned, his clothing seemingly fused to his flesh in the great heat as he burned alive on the superheated ash at the side of the lava flow. For a moment I am tempted to leave him to die. In the span of a single second time slows down and I find myself considering this wretched husk grasping for life.

He could be rebuilt. But what pitiful creature would emerge in the aftermath? The power of the Force is dependent on the living body. To have so much of his flesh lost will severely weaken his hold on the Force. Even more prosthetics would have to be added on just to stabilize his breathing process.

He will become more machine than man. To have such power wasted is a crime. The fact that such power is denied to me is even more of a crime. Am I then to be the master of a worthless cripple? Should I just leave him to die on this world of Mustafar and start over in my search for an apprentice?

Perhaps not. Vader has survived thus far on his own. He has survived immolation, managed to crawl up the slope out of further danger and used his hatred for his former Master to stay alive until help could come. His connection to the Force may be severely hampered, but it is evident that it has not been fully severed. He could _still_ be of use to me yet.

I turn to the clones. My voice is unusually calm, but still laced with authority. "Bring a medical capsule immediately!"

"Yes sir, right away." And with that the two clones are gone. Turning back to Vader, I approach slowly, taking a moment to revel in the agony radiating from Vader like a leaking reactor. This is but the beginning of your pain my apprentice. You deserve this for failing to kill Kenobi.

Kneeling down by his side my hand reaches out to touch his forehead. The connection is formed. My power flows into his shattered body, stabilizing his condition for now. It is but a stopgap, a temporary method of ensuring that he survives the trip back to Coruscant. Calling upon the power of the Darkside I demand that Vader lives. I will his organs to resist the urge to shut down. I will his blood cells to keep turning oxygen into carbon dioxide. I will his burnt alveoli to keep absorbing oxygen. I will his heart to keep pumping blood. I will the electrical patterns in his brain not to give out.

I keep him alive through sheer force of will, but I do nothing to dull the pain. Pain is the consequence of failure. There is no greater teacher than pain in this life. After today Vader will learn the consequences of failure.

The clones return with the medical capsule. Using the Force Vader is lifted into the air and onto the gurney. We return to the shuttle and take off. The trip back to Coruscant passes in silence. It takes all of my concentration to keep Vader's condition stable. He was so close to death. If I had waited even a single moment more than I had Vader would not have survived.

After what feels like eons of travel and waiting we finally return to Coruscant. It is a dark and stormy night in this hemisphere as we touch down on the landing pad of the newly renamed Emperor Palpatine Surgical Reconstruction Center. Lightening arcs across the skies and thunder booms as the landing pad is pelted in buckets of rain. It seems as if the angels up above are weeping at the sight of Vader's deformity. But heaven's tears cannot wash away this iniquity. The Darkside has marked Vader as its own. What is about to transpire shall forever align him with the power of the Darkside.

In the central operating center Vader is set down on the table.

The surgery begins.

There is no anesthetic administered, and Vader is explicitly kept conscious during the operation. The pain is nowhere near as horrific as being burned alive after having your limbs cut off, but the agony of being operated on without painkillers is an excruciating torture in and of itself. Bionic limbs are attached to the pitiful stumps of flesh that remain. Nano-molecular sensors are grafted onto nerve endings. The chest cavity is sliced open via laser scalpel, the lungs removed while new artificial ones are put into place. Auditory sensors are implanted into the ears to replace the irreparable ear drums. Visual components are embedded into his skull. Vocal cords are sliced open and rebuilt while mechanical devices are implanted in order to aid the damaged cords in their function.

All of this is done slowly and methodically, as the surgeons performing the operation are droids. By their nature they are slow and methodical, taking their precious time to ensure that the required work is carried out so that the new prosthetics function properly. All of this only prolongs the agony. At first Vader tries to resist, swatting with his free hand at one droid in order to keep it from performing its task. That hand is quickly clamped down. And now all that Vader can do is shriek. He yells and yells as the pain overwhelms him. He begs for release, hopes for the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness. But the drugs he was administered before the surgery began ensure that he will remain wide awake throughout the procedure.

After all, Vader wouldn't want to miss this. I see now that this is what Vader was destined to be. He is being rebuilt into something greater than a man.

He is becoming a symbol. His new form shall be a visage feared by all, and like all symbols he shall attain a form of immortality. A man can be easily killed, but a symbol lives on in the hearts and minds of the people for centuries to come.

But more importantly, he is becoming an easily controllable symbol. The first and only reality of the Sith is that there can only be two. While it is natural for the apprentice to try and grow powerful enough to overthrow the Master, it is just as natural for the Master to resist his apprentice's attempts. Anakin Skywalker was powerful, but he was also reckless and disobedient. If his powers had remained intact it is likely that he would soon have tried to overthrow me. But in his present state Vader is no longer capable of being a threat. That being said we shall see how Vader performs in his new role at my side. He will have his uses, but weakness has no place in the Order of the Sith Lords. If he cannot overcome his disability I shall have to replace him. A pity, seeing as I have spent so many years trying to mold him, but at times events transpire that not even I can foresee.

The final touches are laid into place. The armor is attached to his body, and now all is suddenly silent. A sense of anticipation seems to hum throughout the room. Two robotic arms descend from the ceiling. One carries a helmet.

The other holds a mask. It hovers over Vader's head for but the briefest of moments, and then it slowly descends. Vader stares up at the mask descending on him. He has not been told, but he knows what is about to transpire. He will be encased in a walking coffin. This suit is all that stands between him and death's cold embrace.

He will never take it off. From now until the day he dies he will be cut off from the outside world.

Never again will he hold a warm hand in his own and be able to feel smooth skin. Never again will he be able to hear another's voice unaided. Never again will he be warm or cold, as the suits regulatory systems will keep temperature constant. Never again will he be able to taste or to smell. Never again will he enjoy the more carnal pleasures of a lover's embrace.

He will be cut off from all of reality. He will see and he will participate, but what little sensation he shall receive shall not be of his own making. He will be reliant on these machines for the rest of his life. I could always have outfitted him with prosthetics that had greater tactile sensations, allowing him to feel as if he still had his original limbs.

But to do that would be to actually care about Vader's well being.

And no true Sith can care for another.

The mask slowly descends onto Vader's face. The new Dark Lord seems to resign himself to this fate, his face etched in permanent misery. With a hiss the mask falls into place, followed shortly by the helmet. For a brief moment there is no sound in the room. All is silent, all is held in baited anticipation.

And then it happens.

HUOOOO-BURRR.

He lives.

In the distance I can practically hear a chorus of the spirits of the Darkside singing their praises as a new Sith Lord is well and truly born. The last remnants of Anakin Skywalker have been purged in fire. The body has been cleansed of the light, and the hatred has been allowed to flow.

Slowly the operation table is raised to a standing position, the new form of Darth Vader chained to the table.

It is magnificent. The armor is painstakingly crafted, etched in the glorious style of Sith Lords past. It is more than a walking coffin.

It is a monument to the magnificence of the Sith, a meticulously built and finely encrusted jewelry box in which all of the fine jewels of the Darkside of the Force have been laid.

As I marvel at my handiwork I sense something has transpired a great distance from here. It is a small tremor in the Force, one that I would not have normally sensed, so insignificant as it was.

Padme Amidala has passed away.

How wonderful. The last link to Lord Vader's old life is finally well and truly dead. I'll have to remember to celebrate later. But for now it is time to test my theory on the level of damage Vader has succumbed to.

I lean forward towards my creation, and in a croaking voice I ask, "Lord Vader, can you hear me?"

For but a moment there is silence, interrupted only by the rhythmic breathing emitted from the vocabulator of Vader's mask. And then he speaks.

"Yes Master." He turns to me, and I can sense his fear and concern. "Where is Padme? Is she safe? Is she alright?"

This is the part of the job that I truly enjoy.

"It seems in your anger, you killed her."

For Vader the world shatters and the last dying ember of hope for his future finally goes out.

"I...? I couldn't have! She was ALIVE... I FELT IT!" But he knows that he was responsible. He throttled his own wife. Whether or not she was alive when he and Kenobi began their duel is irrelevant. She succumbed to the injuries that he inflicted. He killed his wife and unborn child.

The rage builds. The room shakes. Containers of blood and other liquids shatter, spilling their content all over the ground. The chest cavities of droids crumple and implode. Medical equipment is crushed. Ceiling and wall panels shatter, causing exposed wires to spark. I observe all of this destruction with a satisfied smirk. I don't bother to hide my amusement at my new apprentice's impotent fury.

Vader knows I am amused. He hates me for it. The veil has fallen from his eyes. He sees my manipulation, he sees my lies, he sees me for what I truly am. I was never there to help him. I never cared for him. All that mattered to me was how useful he was to achieving my ends. He knows this now. He knows that I have brought him to this dark place, that I pushed him there.

He tries to lash out at me. He pulls himself free of his restraints, but he is not used to the bulky suit. His movements are clumsy and haphazard like a marionette being played with by a young child. He tries to call on the Force to attack me, but the power that once came so readily to him is no longer willing to obey his commands. It dangles just out of reach, mocking him for his weakness.

In that moment Vader realizes the cold, uncompromising truth. I might have pushed him down this path, but he was the one who agreed to go. He could have resisted his darker impulses. He could have avoided me. He alone made the decision to join me. He alone decided to murder those children. He alone decided to betray the Jedi.

He alone killed his wife. He could have said no. He could have died rather than serve. But he didn't. He willingly did as I commanded. He alone is responsible for his injuries.

He alone is responsible for his fall from grace.

He was selfish, caring only for himself and his own happiness. And now he has only himself to blame, only himself to be with.

He is alone. He will always be alone. Cut off with no one to care for him, cut off from all sensation, alive, but no longer living.

This is a hell of his own personal making. I may have helped him along, but in the end he and he alone could have made the choice to join with the Darkside.

If you realized that you alone had forever ruined your life, what would you say as your world crumbled around you and all happiness died?

"NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOO!"


	46. A Loyal Friend

**Hello everyone. Recently it has been brought to my attention that at least one of my readers believes that the rating for this story should be upped to a T rating. I am not very good at judging when something should go from one rating to the other. That being said, after you are done today reading this chapter and once you have written your review for it (should you review) if you could kindly give your opinion on whether or not the rating should be upped and why it would be greatly appreciated. Thank you. Please Leave a Review!**

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Dinner time at the Imperial Palace is normally a quiet and reserved affair. Rumors have always trickled down from prominent sources out to the masses that the Palace is usually host to lavish and opulent banquets. This is occasionally true. From time to time the Emperor deigns it necessary to host lavish affairs in order to subtly reinforce the power and prestige that the monarchy holds, but the Emperor's character was never one to fully embrace the opulent nature that the rich seemed to cherish, preferring instead the raw power that his office possesses rather than indulging in such supplemental and fleeting pleasures. On most nights the average dinner at the Palace reflects the New Order's vision of minimalism and asceticism. Those who knew about these low key affairs had always appreciated the Emperor's sincerity. After all, with the rise of the Empire Palpatine had always preached against the decadence that had plagued the Old Republic.

To have an Emperor that apparently practiced what he preached for the most part only helped to subtly implant in his minions a deeper sense of loyalty. Tonight was no different than most. The lights were on low. The room in which two individuals sat was lowly lit and Spartan in appearance, favoring function over form. Silence reigned as a hooded figure stole glances at his guest from beneath the cowl of his robe.

The guest in question, one Mas Amedda was observing a report on a datapad that his host had given to him, his food, some homegrown dish from his native Champala that the cook had whipped up, suddenly forgotten.

"The entire population?" He asked quietly.

"Yes, the entire population." The Emperor responded. He seemed to be in a rather jovial mood as he put a forkful of food into his mouth. The Emperor stopped chewing for a moment, noticing his underling's blue face becoming a rather odd shade of green. The Emperor then swallowed, and, with a hint of mock concern in his voice asked, "Mr. Speaker is the food not agreeing with you?"

Amedda's eyes turned up from the screen. Ignoring the question he stared at the Emperor with mouth agape, as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes. "You had the entire population of Caamas destroyed?"

"What part of "Yes, the entire population." Did you not understand?" The Emperor asked, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice.

"There was no reason for this!" Amedda all but yelled.

"Calm yourself my dear Lord Speaker; I assure you that this little incident will in no way be traced back to us."

"I beg your pardon?" Amedda asked.

"I suppose that, for now, you may indeed have my pardon." The Emperor joked, though by the increasingly cold tone in his voice one could be forgiven for not recognizing that it was indeed a joke.

"As I was saying there is no possible way that this incident could be traced back to us. I made sure that our Bothan intermediaries and their mercenary acquaintances were able to carry out the orbital bombardment in a manner that can never be traced back to the Empire."

"You just committed genocide!" Amedda spluttered, ignoring his Masters exposition.

"It's not as if I had the entire species exterminated." Palpatine lazily dismissed. "The Caamasi were wise enough to have established colonies on numerous worlds. The species will survive in one form or another. The survivors should consider themselves lucky."

"Lucky? You just orchestrated the murder of billions of their kin and you say that they should consider themselves _lucky_?"

"Yes, lucky!" the Emperor hissed, now certainly annoyed at the Speaker's brashness. So many years as the Emperor's right hand had diluted the fear Amedda should have possessed for the creature sitting across from him, but moral outrage seemed to blind the Speaker at the moment.

"I could have tracked down every last Caamasi on every single world in the Empire and had them exterminated to prove a point, but I feel that the point has already been proven. They defied me, and I will not brook defiance. I'm surprised at you Mr. Speaker. You never protested when we annihilated Raxus, or bombed the cities on Serenno or crushed the uprisings on Agamar and New Plympto."

"Raxus was the capital of the Confederacy," Amedda responded. "… A wretched hive of scum and villainy if there ever was one. Exterminating all life on that ball of dirt was necessary. Serenno was another breeding ground of Separatist thought. D-destroying several of the m-m-major cities was a necessary evil to expunge the Separatist holdouts." Amedda was stuttering with rage and disbelief, desperately rationalizing for the millionth time the many murders he had helped the Emperor to orchestrate as his mind reeled at the latest atrocity. "The mass executions on Agamar and New Plympto were necessary to restore order. But this, this _massacre _was pointless. Caamas was a loyalist world through and through. Never once in the entire history of galactic civilization had the Caamasi people ever sided with the enemies of the Republic willingly. They never rioted, they never rebelled, they never attempted to secede. Why would you do this?"

For a moment the Emperor ignored Amedda's question, instead focusing on his well-done steak. Finally, after eating another bite or two, but without looking at Amedda, he said, "The Caamasi people were not as pragmatic as you or I when it came to reintegrating Separatist worlds and sectors into the Empire. You and I both know that the only concept that the Separatist mind could understand was brute violence. Certain sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. The Caamasi however failed to understand this simple truth. Instead they preached "peace through moral strength." as an alternative."

The disgust written on the Emperor's face was evident as he repeated that quote. "I had hoped that by this point I had purified the galaxy of such treacherous thoughts. Peace through moral strength is a rather sophisticated way of advocating pacifism, and as the last three years have shown pacifism as a valid ideology has been thoroughly discredited. The Empire is still a fragile union of worlds Mr. Speaker. We are growing stronger every day, but our dear unity, paid for at a price most dear with the blood of our loyal troops is still threatened by the looming specter of Separatism and unorthodox thought."

Amedda shook his head quietly. "Kindly spare me the propaganda Your Highness; I am wounded to think that you would believe that I would so readily buy the "our soldiers died for our Empire" stock phrase. Amedda was mildly surprised at himself. In the past he had never been this prone to retorting in such a rude manner. But for some reason he could not inhibit himself, not now.

The Speaker took a deep breath, and then he spoke. He needed to get this off of his chest. "When I first got elected as a Senator I was an idealistic young man, my head filled with foolish thoughts and hopes. Though I grew more jaded over the years one dream never faltered. I believed that I could do some real good in this galaxy, but I never had the popular support to be elected Chancellor on my own. The best I could settle for was Speaker of the Senate and Vice Chairman of the Republic. And then you came along, and I believed in you. I believed you when you said that we were building a better galaxy. I was willing to fight for you, to murder for you, to steal for you, to lie for you. All because I believed you when you said that together we would create a New Order, a better order. I compromised my principles because you blinded me with visions of a great society, a shining beacon of renewal. I bartered away the values I held close because I came to believe as you did that the ends justified the means. And so I helped you commit genocide. I helped you split the Republic in two. I helped pass through the Senate all of the legislation you needed that would grant you unlimited power over the galaxy. I helped you to start the most brutal war in history.

Why? I believed that you spoke the truth. I believed what you said, that it was a necessary evil; that we needed to purge the galaxy with fire in order to strengthen it. I rationalized it all away; every crime I committed was justified by the utopia I was helping you to build. And now we have finally created that bold new world you spoke to me of, and it is an abomination. There is no reason for this atrocity; it is blood sport for its own sake. Have you no conscience man?" Amedda was practically screaming at this point. Why was he suddenly throwing such caution to the wind? The left side of his body felt oddly numb. Why was his other arm spasming like that? It didn't matter, he needed to know. Palpatine seemed affronted by the course that the conversation had taken. Amedda had broken one of the biggest taboos between the two of them, never question the Emperor's plans or methods in achieving these plans. The Emperor observed Amedda, whose body was now shuddering violently.

"A conscience? A conscience is much like a pebble you find stuck in your shoe Mr. Speaker. You have absolutely no idea how relieved you are when you pluck it up and toss it by the wayside."

The Emperor continued to observe the Chagrian, who now appeared to be violently ill. "The most infectious disease in this universe is not a virus or a simple bacterium. It is thought. Thoughts and ideas are the most dangerous and rapidly spreading illnesses in the universe. The Caamasi advocated peace through moral strength and the democratic participation of the masses. Such a line of thought is in direct conflict with the teachings of the Sith and the New Order. There is no room for both to coexist. If this Empire is to survive it can only do so through unity of thought and unity of deed. Caamas was a pillar of the old ways, home to one of the oldest democracies in the galaxy. Their cultural relics and civilized institutions radiated the values of the Old Republic, values that I am trying very hard to suppress. That symbol of democracy and "progress" has now been firmly destroyed. Caamas shall now serve as a symbol for another ideology; the ideology of fear and force. Caamas will stand as a warning to those who seek to contradict the party line and question Imperial policy. The masses will be less inclined to revolt after they see the molten rivers that were once the thriving forests and cities of Caamas on the evening news. They may not know for sure that the Empire is responsible, and the Empire may not take credit, but in the back of their minds the people will know never again to get out of line. They will know to keep their mouths shut."

Amedda was now gripping the edge of the table, his eyes bulging as he began to hack and wheeze for breath. The Emperor ignored him, moving on from the steak to the pasta on his plate. As he chewed on his meal he continued to watch Amedda as he fell to the ground and began to role about like a fish freshly tossed onto dry land. The Emperor allowed a moment to pass in silence (Amedda's increasingly desperate choking notwithstanding). After all, it wasn't very often that the Emperor indulged himself in dinner and a show at the same time. Inevitably though he continued with his little speech.

"It will certainly take time. Twenty five thousand years of history and tradition are not going to be erased immediately, but soon the Republic and the democracy that it held so dear shall become nothing more than a fleeting memory. The final bastions of this twisted creature the people call "liberty" shall be routed out and destroyed. It will take time, but the people will grow used to my brand of governance and shall grow to be distasteful of the decadent past that plagued us. For now though I shall be forced to tolerate these incessant reminders of the past. The process of dismantling the past has already begun though. The Senate, once a forum of the people, is now nothing more than a powerless advisory body, a rubberstamp assembly whose only purpose is to satisfy the more democratically minded citizenry. Soon though the number of citizens who believe in such arcane notions shall dwindle into a meaningless minority. Then and only then shall I be finally able to rid myself of that final cancer that plagues my Empire. Therein lays your problem Mr. Speaker. Your role as Vice Chairman was essential when it came to getting what I wanted past in the legislature. But now that the Senate is irrelevant to the task of governing beyond keeping up the appearance of democratic process I find that your position has become rather…redundant."

Amedda was staring up at him now, the light rapidly leaving is eyes as saliva and bile began to trickle down his expensive robes. "You served your purpose well my friend. But I find that there is little position of value for you in the New Order. You have grown too big for your horns, as it were. You thought yourself essential to my cause. You were wrong. Everyone is expendable Mas. Especially you. You took advantage of your position to enrich yourself. You thought that I wasn't looking, but I have always known. You are quite the contemptible creature, did you know that? Your arrogance and naivety were at times astounding. You tried so hard to rationalize what you did. You believed that what you were doing was necessary, and yet you were still plagued by that petty voice in your head that you call a conscience. You never had the stomach to do what was fully necessary. You stood there on your podium or in your office giving orders from afar, trying to wash away the blood and rationalize away your culpability. You were never able to get your hands fully dirty without regret, as I was capable of doing. You failed to recognize that power was its own reward, and that the free and unchecked display of power was necessary to keep one's inferiors firmly in line."

The twitching had by now stopped, and the head of Mas Amedda fell limply to the floor, dark eyes staring into nothing.

"You were to much of a loose end Mas." The Emperor continued. "I'm glad though that we could have one last little chat before the time came. I'm glad you were able to air your feelings out in the opening. Though I hold nothing but the deepest distaste for your weakness know that I did value and appreciate your work. You were a loyal friend to the very end. Before your death I hope that you learned a most valuable lesson. No one questions me. No one. You never possessed the will to go far enough to achieve the power that you secretly desired. Those without power die. That is the fundamental truth of the New Order."

The Emperor finished his meal before pressing a button on the comm. Within seconds of pushing the button the scurrying form of Grand Vizier Sate Pestage appeared. "You summoned me Your Majesty?" the Grand Vizier asked. "Congratulations are in order my friend." Palpatine said. "The poison you put in his food worked very well. However, I will need to find someone else to "lead" the Senate now that Amedda is gone. It would be a worthless job by default, but an impressive (if worthless) title would certainly look good on one's resume, and one wouldn't even have to do much to accomplish the task adequately."

The Emperor took a moment to ponder the thought while Pestage dutifully waited.

"Tell me Sate, how would you like to be President of the Senate?"

The Grand Vizier allowed himself a rare smile, exposing yellowing teeth and blackening gums.

"I would be most honored to be of service Your Majesty."


	47. Independance Day

**By unanimous decision in the comments section this story has been upgraded to a T rating. In honor of this chapter coming out on July 4****th**** I respectfully dedicate this chapter to the spirit of Independence Day. I put a few references here and there. Spot them if you can. Please Leave a Review.**

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It was a time of struggle.

It was a time of oppression.

It was a time of pain.

It was a time of darkness.

It was a time of fear.

It was a time of renewed hope.

It was a time when the people took back that which was rightfully theirs.

It was an era when the galaxy was plunged in darkness and the people were deprived of the liberty that was fundamentally theirs. They had been lied to, deceived by an Emperor who cared only for his power.

It was an era where peace came about only at the end of a gun and the people worried for their lives.

It was a time when a group of noble patriots decided that the time for talk had past and came together in order to defeat the tyrant who they believed held them in chains.

The conflict was long and fraught with difficulty. At times the struggle seemed like a futile gesture. The enemy was to well equipped. The Emperor's armies were infinite. The war seemed to drag on with no end in sight. But there is one thing that the Emperor left out of his plans.

He never factored into his decision making process the will of a people who would not be slaves again.

The darkness that plagued us has not been driven away completely, but for the first time in what feels like an eternity we can finally see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It is now a time of jubilation.

It is now a time of joy.

It is now a time of reflection and consideration.

It is now a time to celebrate.

The Emperor is dead. The first death knell of Imperial tyranny has been wrung. Across the galaxy men and women of all classes, species and creeds come together in celebration of all that they have in common and all that makes this life worth living, a love of freedom and liberty. From the distant worlds of the Outer Rim to the shining metropolises of the Core Worlds the people revel in their triumph. For too long they had placed their trust in the hands of one man. That man had lied to them. That man had betrayed their trust and used his power to enslave and to intimidate. But it doesn't matter.

A wise man once said that though it may take a thousand years we will one day be free. The rule of Palpatine may not have lasted a thousand years as he had hoped, but his cruel rule which cast a shadow over the galaxy for nearly a quarter of a century has mercifully come to an end. Against the will of a sovereign and determined people the mailed fist of autocrats shall always fail.

Crowds flood the streets, overwhelming and scattering the halfhearted Imperial Riot Troopers sent to handle the crowds. There are cheers, there is laughter, there are tears of joy as people rejoice. There is heartfelt mourning as people remember the friends and loved ones lost during the Dark Times. The nightmare is over.

For the first time in a long time there is hope for the future. But more importantly than hope, there is faith. Faith has been restored towards sentientkind. The infernos of the Clone Wars had smothered faith in our fellow man, killing in the minds of most the idea that the common man had the capacity to participate in government. Palpatine used that loss of faith in the people to seize power. But now, hopefully, the people are a little wiser than they once were.

With the Emperor dead and the Empire already beginning to fragment faith in the principles of democracy and self-determination has finally been restored. Perhaps now the people will finally realize for now and forever never again to place their trust in kings and in the nobility. Rather, it is right and just to place trust in ourselves and in others. A spirit of egalitarianism is returned to the people, a common notion that every individual, no matter how rich or poor still matters and still possesses a fundamental value to society at large.

The Emperor had always scoffed at such ideas, believing them to be unattainable dreams. They were only unattainable because he believed them to be so. The people began to know better. Many realized, some for the first time, that the only thing standing between our dreams and reality is ourselves. The people had the power to create things, to make this life a wonderful adventure. They only had to try their hardest and work together. Perhaps Palpatine realized this to be true. Perhaps that is why he tried his hardest to divide the people against one another, because he instinctively knew, deny it though he might, that a people united in common purpose can achieve anything.

The galaxy has seen the consequences of centralized power in the hands of a monarchy and has seen the harm that such concentrated power can cause. On a million worlds the symbols of the vaunted New Order are cast aside. On Eriadu statues of Tarkin the butcher are torn down. On Naboo Imperial Banners are burned as the flag of the Old Republic is once more flown from every mast. And on Coruscant, the beating heart that gives its lifeblood to keep the galaxy alive, there exists a massive statue, one of the largest in the galaxy, its arms outstretched as if to embrace someone, its eyes hidden beneath a marble hood looking over the sprawling city world.

Since the founding of the Empire this statue of Emperor Palpatine has stood as an emblem of the New Order, immediately recognizable throughout the galaxy as the most visible symbol of Palpatine and the Empire's supposedly unlimited strength. All of that is about to change.

Crowds storm into the square where the statue stands guard. The people glare up at it hatefully as it stares down at them. As the man that this monument was based on was a blight upon the galaxy and its people, so to reasoned the people that this statue was equally heinous. Calls for rope and for chains begin to echo out in the crowd, suddenly becoming a cacophonous chant that echoes for miles to hear. Soon enough ropes and chains are quickly brought. This was never organized. This was never planned. But everyone knows what is about to transpire.

Chains are wrapped around the arms and the neck of the statue. It is poetic irony that is not lost on many. For years they had lived their lives bound in chains of servitude to that man, and now the representation of their oppressor is now itself wrapped in chains. The marble visage continues to sneer out at the crowd as it always had since it had first been erected those many years ago, as if to say, "You cannot tear me down. I have withstood greater tribulations than you. You cannot oppose me." A single voice carries over the crowd and is heard by all, as if in defiance of the statue's unsaid proclamation.

"ONE! TWO! THREE! _PULL!_"

With all of their might thousands take hold and pull.

The statue shakes and tips, but remains upright.

"AGAIN! ONE! TWO! THREE! _PULL!_"

This time the desired effect takes place. The statue topples over. Hundreds rush to get out of the way. The ground shakes from the impact as the statue is brought hurtling down. The head breaks off from the body and roles about on the ground at their feet. As one the people let loose a triumphant cheer. Many dance atop the statue, laughing and embracing their loved ones as they revel in the victory of the people.

Far away the Old Senate Building stands quiet and empty. For years it has stood abandoned. Before their liberty had been achieved rumors had spread about the old building. Some thought that the Emperor would convert it into a museum. Others believed that Palpatine would demolish the building as part of his attempt to completely destroy the ideals of the past and rewrite history to his own liking. Whatever plans he held for it shall never be achieved, and at this point it does not matter.

A mob of thousands approaches, marching up the Avenue of the Core Founders past statues of the Republic's Founding Fathers, great men whose noble accomplishments had slowly been forgotten and suppressed by an oppressor fearful of the ideas that these men and women represented. That was about to change.

The security systems for the Senate Building had long been gutted, and as it was no longer a de jure important government building it had no security guards to keep people out. The mob entered into the Grand Atrium and spread out across the building, occupying abandoned offices, hallways and the Senate Chamber itself. It was in the Senate Chamber that it started. Someone had managed to find their way onto the Chancellor's Podium. Over the cheers and the loud celebration a voice began to be heard from the Podium. Slowly things began to grow silent and calm as they heard the words being said. Or rather, sung. To the younger people in the crowd they did not fully appreciate or recognize the words being spoken, and were thus mildly confused when they saw that many of the older individuals in the Chamber had tears in their eyes.

They were crying.

They were crying because that one man in the Chancellor's Podium who none of them had ever met or heard of before was singing the lyrics to _All Stars Burn As One_; the National Anthem of the Galactic Republic.

They were beautiful words, words that gave each and every person in the Chamber a warm and happy feeling. They were words of optimism for the future, they were words that praised the will of the people, that extolled the virtues of justice, democracy, and peace. It was a song that inspired togetherness and cooperation, of equality, and of the cause of freedom.

Soon others began to join in with the chorus. The young people needed to hear it a few times through before they were able to catch on, but catch on they did, and soon they joined their elders as they sang.

From the Senate Chamber the echoes of _All Stars Burn As One_ echoed through the corridors and were heard by all. Recognizing the song for what it was and not wanting to be left out those occupying the offices and corridors quickly joined in. Soon everyone in the Senate Building was singing _All Stars Burn As One_ at the top of their lungs, and for the first time in a long time they were truly happy. They were happy because the Emperor who had deceived them, who had used them, who had terrified them was now well and truly dead. He would not come back to haunt them as a specter would. He was well and truly dead. His spell of fear over them was broken for now and forever. They had no reason to be worried of his followers, the few that were left. They were free.

The echoing lyrics of _All Stars Burn As One_ could be heard throughout the night and well into the morning.

The news of Palpatine's demise was met with cheers across the galaxy. Imperial governors were overthrown as the people took charge of their lives once again. Governments that had been deposed by the Empire were reconvened. Those accused of war crimes were rounded up and held for trial. On some worlds like Naboo the transition was relatively peaceful, if at times chaotic. On other worlds like Coruscant the attempted change-over was marred with sporadic clashes with the police and remnants of the Imperial Government desperate to keep the New Order's vision alive.

Though uprisings on many worlds failed to restore power to the people just as many attempts to abolish the tyranny that held the people in chains were successful. Thousands of worlds successfully threw off the yoke of Imperial dictatorship and declared their support for the Alliance that had worked so hard to free them from Palpatine's brutality. Though many uprisings were crushed the people on those beleaguered worlds held hope in their hearts for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Though they were held captive for now they knew that the end of the long night had finally begun. Palpatine was the glue that held the Empire together. Without him in charge the Empire could not stand together. A union founded on greed and hatred could not stand the test of time. The Imperials would weaken and falter as the Alliance grew bolder. The Rebels would come to liberate them in time. They would all be free.

It was inevitable.

There were those who did not celebrate Palpatine's passing, but rather mourned his premature demise; or rather, pretended to mourn. Few of Palpatine's supporters were actually capable of feeling sadness at the passing of another living being. They may have honestly believed that they were saddened by Palpatine himself dying, but in reality they were saddened by Palpatine's death, not because he himself died, but because the power and the authority he had given them, the totalitarian lifestyle that he embodied and they supported had died with the Emperor. These "loyalists" feared what the future held in store. To them a galaxy without the Empire seemed like a place not worth living in. As their universe shattered around them, these diehard Imperials, these cold and unnatural men and women mourned the passing of their way of life, saddened by what they themselves had lost in Palpatine's demise.

But for a majority of people the demise of Palpatine was greeted with enthusiasm. The old adage was proven true. No one really mourns the wicked. They had been hardened and made wiser by Palpatine's reign. They now knew that the galaxy did not need a strong leader.

It needed strong leader_**s**_.

And so the people celebrated their independence. They danced and they sang. And as day turned to night on a million worlds the skies were lit up with fireworks that shined bright and held the dark at bay. The explosions echoed through cities and hills, across deserts and forests, from the tops of the highest mountains to the deepest depths of the oceans. Across the very fabric of space the galaxy was lit up with brilliant lights. The people rejoiced, allowing their love for one another and for their new found freedom to light up their hearts.

Against such joy Palpatine's cynicism could not stand. One man could make a difference. One man could change the galaxy for the better. The people could do anything if they put their mind to it. They had proven that they were right after all. The warmth of this thought drove the celebrations onwards for days and weeks at a time on some worlds.

Centuries later, as historians and citizens alike looked back on this pivotal moment in the galaxy's history, they realized that on that important day there existed one unified slogan that was chanted in every language and on every world. It was the slogan that would define the era of the Galactic Civil War and the fall of the Palpatine's Empire for all time to come.

Long Live the Republic! Let Freedom Ring!


	48. My Heart Is Stone And Still It Trembles

_I am reaching, but I fall,_

_And the stars are black and cold,_

_As I stare into the void,_

_Of a world that cannot hold._

-Inspector Javert, Les Miserables

* * *

Who is this man?

What sort of devil is he?

Those are the questions that have echoed through my skull amongst many, many others.

Everything has come apart. My entire way of life is burning around me. Everything we have built has come tumbling down. All that made life worth living has been destroyed. It is all crashing down around me.

I am so very tired, and yet rest eludes me. It has eluded me since the galaxy came to an end. I have tried to find peace. I've tried to let go. I've tried to find focus, but all of these things stand just outside of my grasp, mocking my inability to find the inner peace and strength that once came so easily. Meditation has become...difficult. The Force was once an oasis of tranquility, a reassuring constant in my life that served as an escape from the overwhelming nature of the corporeal world. And now even that one refuge has been denied to me.

The Force has been thrown into chaos.

The Lightside has suddenly and violently contracted, leaving only a void that cannot hold.

We have been left to wallow in darkness.

For myself that darkness is both metaphorical and literal in this moment of time. At the moment I am alone, hiding in a small, dark closet aboard a Naboo vessel bound for a destination unknown. I have known the owner of this ship, Padme, for many years. She is a clever and at times deceptive woman, but when it comes to certain affairs she is painfully transparent to me. Her marriage to Anakin is one of them. I have remained silent about their relationship. I discovered it early on, and yet I allowed Anakin to forsake his Jedi teachings and embrace his passions. I did not object, for I was truly happy for the both of them. I was happy because I knew what it was like to feel love for a woman. I knew what it was like to desire. I felt that they both deserved some joy in this time of uncertainty.

I should be looking to the future and the coming reckoning, but instead my mind is drawn to the recent past.

Looking back now I realize that I was damned if I did and damned if I didn't. Anakin would have been better off under a more experienced Master. And yet I insisted on training the boy myself at Qui-Gon's request when I myself was only recently knighted moments before. If I had gone to the Council about Anakin's relationship perhaps this catastrophe could have been avoided. He was so possessive of Padme, so protective, so desperate. It was a desperation that _he _readily took advantage of. I could have put a stop to this before it even began. Anakin would have hated me, but at least he would have survived with his soul intact.

There were so many opportunities, so many chances to fix things. Every instance where this horrific fate could have been halted now shrieks out at me and deafens me with condemnation. I should have insisted that Anakin not spend so much time with the Chancellor. I should have blocked his appointments with Palpatine. I should have listened harder. I should have _tried_ harder to alleviate Anakin's fears. I thought Anakin understood that I sympathized. But it is evident that I didn't try hard enough.

I failed Anakin. I have failed him completely, and because of my failure Anakin fell into the lure of the Sith.

The Sith Lord, the one we had been warned of. The one whom we had heard whispers and rumors of. The Sith who was believed to be behind everything.

Palpatine, the Supreme Chancellor of the Republic.

No, that isn't correct, not anymore.

Palpatine, the Emperor of the Galactic Empire.

The broad scope of this animal's plot against the Jedi is revealed to me. The veil of the Darkside falls from my eyes and I see with alarming clarity the abominable intelligence that brought about this catastrophe.

In hindsight it is painfully obvious.

He played us like fools. An ex Jedi on side, the Order leading the army of the other side, engaged in one of the most bloody wars in the galaxy's history. While he _reluctantly_ accumulates power (the very thought is enough to induce bile) the Jedi are slammed by the public and denounced. "The Jedi started the war when they invaded Geonosis." The people would say. "The Jedi protract the war so that they can accumulate control over the army. The Jedi are growing corrupt. They are growing far to powerful. Why won't the Jedi end the war?" Public opinion slowly turned against us as we died by the thousands and all the while that smug wamprat sat in his chair smiling confidently as all the pieces fell in line. He stretched us thin across a thousand worlds, separating us from our comrades and surrounding us with enemies who wore the face of friends.

And then he really suckered us.

The Jedi are not political creatures by nature. Therefore the Council did not fully understand the folly of their actions until it was to late. All that they saw was that a Sith Lord held control of the Republic and had to be expunged with extreme prejudice. That this Sith Lord was the _legitimate _elected leader of the Republic was evidently lost on the Council. One could argue about this situation until you were blue in the face, but I see now that we moved too quickly. We had no evidence to back up our claims aside from the word of one Jedi. We should have waited, gathered evidence and then brought that evidence before the people. Not even a Sith can rule over a galaxy without the tacit support of the people. But we moved to soon. What they did was technically illegal.

Their hearts were in the right place, they knew after all who the Sith was and what he was planning. However it seems that the position of guilt is irrelevant in the court of public opinion without evidence. A being can commit a horrible crime and get away with it if there is no evidence. Likewise an innocent being can be condemned due to evidence that just so happens to implicate them.

That is precisely what happened a few days ago.

The fact that Palpatine had committed war crimes and was trying to dismantle the Republic from the inside out does not matter. The fact that he was trying to become a dictator didn't matter. The fact that he was going to commit genocide DID NOT MATTER. It didn't matter because there was no proof, and if there was no proof there was no legitimate reason for him to be removed from office. And yet the Council tried to remove him from office.

There is a word for such an action. A coup. Other words come to mind as well. Treason is very high on that list of words.

He made it look like the Jedi were trying to take over the Republic. Everything that he had ever done was easily pinned on the Jedi Order. _We_ had lead Count Dooku to start the Separatist movement._We_ had started the war to accumulate power within the Republic to ourselves while simultaneously weakening our enemies. _We_ had tried to dismantle the Republic and take it over. Not _him_, us. And the people believed this. They readily swallowed this horrible lie, this massive hoax. It is said that the bigger and more outrageous a lie is the more likely it is that a large group of people shall believe it.

It is evident now that the groundwork for this operation was being put into place many years before the war, indeed, likely before the birth of Palpatine himself. The Sith have spent a thousand years in hiding, fermenting dissent and spreading their lies for centuries, manipulating the minds of the people and growing stronger upon the ignorance that they brew. That is their nature. The Sith are parasites, feasting upon the pain and the deceit that they readily sow.

Palpatine was just the lucky Sith Lord to finally benefit from centuries of nameless Sith plotting in the dark. We were deceived. I was deceived.

I never thought much of Palpatine. To be honest I had never even heard of him until shortly before the Blockade of Naboo those many years ago. After that he was simply the Chancellor, one of many who come and go as the election cycle does it's work. He was just another politician, and to me most politicians were all alike. Even when the war started he did not factor much into my life. I should have paid more attention. Palpatine may not have mattered much to me, but to Anakin he was the center of the world. He was like a father to my old Padawan in Anakin's eyes, always willing to listen, always offering a shoulder to cry on. He was just so..._nice_. He was the last person one would expect to be a Sith.

When I had first learned of the return of the Sith I had expected that which I saw in Maul. Dark, brooding, vicious, cruel. Does that match with a description of the illusion that was Palpatine? No. I did not think that the Sith were capable of a deception that deep and all encompassing. Palpatine seemed to be truly nothing more than what he appeared to be; a grandfatherly, teetotaling politician. The Sith were capable of hiding in the shadows in the past, but never to such a great extent. The character of Palpatine, the kind, caring, perhaps idealistic Chancellor who served as a father to all of the Republic was so out of step with Sith ideology that the contrast and the realization that the two are one and the same is as startling as it is shocking. If someone like Palpatine was secretly a Sith then anyone could be. What dark secrets lurk within the hearts of those who populate the galaxy?

I cannot know. Palpatine has taken from the Jedi the ability to find answers to life's questions. The Force is choked with the infernal fires of the Darkside. the future is blocked to us by the rising ashes that was once our future.

How can a man possibly be so cruel? Such treachery, such _barbarism_ goes beyond even the legendary Sith of antiquity. To murder so many billions without regret. To slaughter children fresh from the cradle without remorse. To be so blatantly amoral boggles the mind and causes me to wretch in indignation.

I am a Jedi though. To allow such emotions to nearly overwhelm me is not becoming of a Master of the Council.

But I am more than a Jedi.

I am a man.

There is only so much a man can experience.

Palpatine brought them together, Anakin and Padme. It was he who suggested that Anakin and I guard her in the first place. He brought them together and ensured that their love would blossom and grow. And then he used it against them. He took something that was holy in the eyes of the Light and dirtied it with fear and with paranoia. He brought them together just so he could tear them apart. And I know without knowing that this _amused _him. I remember telling Padme, just a few hours ago that Anakin had fallen and that Palpatine, her closest friend, was responsible. I remember the horror, the dread, and the desperate denial that raged through her mind. I remember her need to confront her husband. I remember stowing away in this closet, knowing that she was going after him to confront him. I remember my guilt and my shame, using her to confront the man who was once my friend, now my enemy. And I know that, in his blood red office where so much Jedi blood has been shed the ruler of the galaxy laughs at our expense. He has used us and played us against one another. It is all a game to him.

Palpatine is responsible, whether by deliberate design or mere consequence, for every horrific tragedy that has transpired. Billions have burned. Death and plague and fear have torn the fabric of our community asunder. The filth of the Darkside has tainted us all.

It has tainted my life as well.

Palpatine brought Maul into being and let him loose upon the galaxy. Maul, the animal who murdered Qui-Gon and Satine. We never really knew what became of Maul. No doubt Palpatine had something to do with his sudden disappearance from Mandalore.

I suppose Palpatine didn't need another rival.

I have seen so much death. Millions of clones, billions of civilians and freedom fighters.

Thousands of Jedi.

I can still see it now. The smoke hanging in the air, the putrid scent of burning flesh.

The Archives looted and smashed.

Corpses everywhere.

Masters.

Knights.

Padawans.

_Younglings_.

_**Babies**._

_..._

_..._

_...__Don't go to pieces now Kenobi. Don't fall apart. Not now. You are better than this_. **YOU ARE A JEDI!**

We promised their families though. We promised that we would take care of them, that we would protect them. And he _killed them ALL!_

_They are One with the Force. Now is not the time to mourn. The Sith must be destroyed. As long as one Jedi lives the Order survives. The Light still has a fighting chance. But the Lightside can only succeed if you focus_.

This inner war rages as the minutes slip by. The ship glides through hyperspace. I can sense Padme's apprehension as she too goes through her own little struggle. Her closest friend has betrayed and used her. He has caused her husband to commit unspeakable atrocities. She is still desperately trying to rationalize it away, to make sense of a galaxy turned upside down where even the seemingly kindest of us all turns out to possess the blackest of hearts.

Jedi training inevitably wins out. Despair is a path to the Darkside and a fuel upon which Palpatine will feed. He will win if I or any other surviving Jedi succumbs to fear and to sorrow. And so I try to put it aside. The heart of a Jedi cannot and should not be easily pierced by the horrors of the Sith. And yet, despite my best intentions my heart still trembles with palpitations of anger and regret. Palpatine turned my brother against the Jedi. He has effectively killed Anakin. The creature that I go to now to fight is not Anakin. It may look and sound like him, it might even possess his memories, but it is not him. It is a creature that has been twisted by the Darkside. A small part of me wonders what sort of vile secrets Palpatine whispered in my apprentice's ears. I quickly banish the thought. It doesn't matter. The deed is done. I failed to protect Anakin, but my duty still stands. I am a Jedi. I swore an oath to protect the principles of the Jedi Order and the Republic that it has faithfully served. Palpatine has turned the people against that Order and against those ideals, but he cannot turn me.

I still possess my ideals. I am a servant of the Lightside, and that is one thing that Palpatine can never take form me. I only wish that Anakin's will had been stronger.

The ship has landed. I emerge from the darkness of my hiding place into the artificial light of the ship's main hallway. The pit in my stomach grows colder and deeper than the void of space. I go now to do my duty. Before I go to confront the man that used to be Anakin I wonder. Was Palpatine's attempt to kill me on Utapau doomed to failure? Did he intend for me to survive? Did he know that I would survive and come to this world (whatever this world is called) to face my old apprentice? If so, does he derive some twisted sense of joy from the fact that men who were once brothers in the Force are now trying to kill one another? Does he even care that the lives of so many, myself included, have been twisted and destroyed in order to satisfy his lust for power? Most likely not.

I go now to do what needs to be done. I try to harden my heart. There will be battle. And yet my mind shudders. Nothing lasts forever it seems. Today the fate of the galaxy for decades to come shall be decided. Yoda shall confront Sidious, and I Vader.

Either I shall kill Vader or he shall kill me. If Vader kills me then Palpatine will have one less Jedi to worry about. But if I win Sidious has the satisfaction of knowing that I killed one of my closest friends.

Either way Sidious wins.

So why then do I fight when the Jedi Order is nothing more than a few dying embers? Because there is one thing that this Darth Sidious has severely overlooked. All it takes is just one spark to reignite the burning fires of hope.

Though my life flies apart in this, our darkest hour, I know that one thing is true.

I am that spark.


	49. The Council of War

**Sorry that I haven't updated in a while. I have been pretty busy. But I'm back. Hopefully this chapter makes up for it. Please Leave a Review!**

* * *

The scarlet office of the Chancellor was packed with advisers of military and civilian persuasion alike. Outside the wide window placed behind the Chancellor's desk the skyline of Galactic City appeared completely unchanged by the tumultuous events being discussed within the halls of governance. It was early evening and rush hour traffic was seen buzzing in between the large skyscrapers that made up the city. The Chancellor found himself ignoring his advisers as he stared out at the never ending stream of traffic, focusing instead upon the drivers and passengers of the airspeeders flying in the distance.

Even in a galaxy at war the citizens of Coruscant continued about their lives with an apathetic disregard to current events. To them the war was a distant problem confined for the most part to the Mid and Outer Rims of the galaxy. Even after the incident where Separatist droids had bombed a power generator, killing or maiming hundreds in the process, the average Coruscanti managed to adjust and forget. It came with their territory. To the average citizen living on Coruscant they were the center of the galaxy. Even the most dirt poor street vermin living in the lower levels deep beneath the surface regarded themselves as practically royal compared to anyone else who may have lived in the galaxy.

"Those who don't live here wish they did." That was a common saying amongst those who resided in the Core Worlds. That saying was doubly true to those who called Coruscant home. The Chancellor allowed himself to sneer in contempt, assured that none of his advisers could see his face behind the high backed chair. They were all entitled, the Chancellor thought to himself. Entitled, spoiled, ignorant, and woefully unaware of anything beyond their own meaningless lives on this planet.

Oh they had been terrified when the droids had first bombed the power station. They had been scared by the rolling blackouts that plagued the Senate District despite the attempts of the emergency generators. There was rioting and looting, fires and explosions. But the fear was short lived. They were scared enough at the time to demand that the Senate deregulate the banks so that the Republic could borrow more money to finance the war, but life goes on. Soon enough they got used to the new security regulations, and once again they felt as secure as they had before the bombing had ever happened.

How quickly they forget.

"Ahem." Someone cleared their throat, attempting to subtly call the Chancellor's attention back to the congregated group currently huddled in silence around their Supreme Commander's desk. That someone was Armand Isard, the Director of Republic Intelligence.

"Your Excellency," Isard said. "If we could get back to the matter at hand..."

"The matter at hand Director," Palpatine interrupted, mildly annoyed at Isard from distracting him from his musing. "...Is currently in a state of paralysis. We cannot act until we have solid information, and at the moment information on the subject is severely lacking due to the communications blackout."

At this moment one of the Chancellor's advisers, one Sim Aloo entered into the office with Senator Bail Organa in tow.

"Sim, is there any news?" Palpatine asked.

The adviser shook his head in the negative. "Nothing concrete Supreme Chancellor. The Administrator of the local Diplomatic Corps is talking, but she is a low level functionary at best within the governmental hierarchy, and we believe that she has little to no impact on the decision making process. Aside from that, no one in the government is talking. There seems to be a complete moratorium on high ranking government officials communicating with the greater galaxy."

"Why has Senator Organa been allowed into this office." Admiral Tarkin asked, his voice dripping with condescension as he stared daggers at the Alderaanian politician. "This is a critical strategy meeting and we cannot afford any leaks at this critical juncture." Turning to the Chancellor, Tarkin waved a hand in Organa's direction. "I insist that you have him removed Your Excellency for secrecy's sake."

"I am a member of the Galactic Senate in good standing _Admiral_." Organa interjected, his face betraying no emotion. "I was informed by the Chancellor's adviser here that there was a highly important war meeting taking place in the Chancellor's office, a meeting that could have a very important impact on the war."

"I fail to see how this concerns you." Sate Pestage hissed at Organa, but his eyes were locked firmly on Aloo due to his accidental revelation of a secret war meeting.

"It concerns the Senate Sate." Organa responded. "This is a parliamentary system of government in which power is invested in a civilian government. Therefore the Chancellor is responsible to the legislature, and thus it is prudent that he inform at least one Senator about such important affairs. I am after all on the Loyalist Committee, and I also have a seat on the Finance Committee and the Defense Committee. I feel that I and my colleagues are entitled to at least know what you are planning.

Before any of the assembled men could protest Palpatine waved a weary hand. "Very well Senator Organa, take a seat. Mas Amedda will fill you in."

However, just as the Speaker was about to begin the doors to the office flew open a second time and in came Sly Moore panting and sweaty, having evidently run from the landing pad to the office. The Chancellor got up from his desk and walked over to his Staff Aide. "What news do you have Sly?" the Chancellor asked.

Sly was visibly upset by whatever news she had brought. She collapsed onto the couch. "The President convened a secret meeting of the legislature and presented to that body a very radical piece of legislation. The legislature passed the President's proposal 382-207." Sly let out a long, defeated sigh.

"As of one hour ago the planet of Umbara officially seceded from the Republic. Reports are coming in now that the Umbaran leadership has already made overtures to the Confederacy for membership. The Separatist fleet will arrive in system tomorrow."

The room was dead silent. Finally Senator Organa broke the silence.

"Did they give any reason behind their secession?" he asked.

Sly nodded. "The official reason being given for the secession is in protest of Senator Deechi's assassination. Many Umbarans believe he would not have been killed if the Republic government had tried harder to uncover who had murdered Senator Farr and later Deechi himself."

"And Deechi actually had the gall to say that his homeworld was one of the most loyal planets in the Republic." Pestage muttered bitterly under his breath.

Palpatine returned to his desk. Now this was interesting. Senator Deechi had been the representative of Umbara and the Ghost Nebula Sector since long before the war had started. Deechi had been a useful pawn in the Chancellor's game. He was an unrepentant militarist and he was always willing to support the Chancellor's legislation. He was, Palpatine mused, perhaps a little overeager in his fervent declarations of loyalty. He was an able orator, able to whip up anti-Separatist fervor to an all time high while stoking the flames of Republic patriotism. Such blind loyalty and the ability to inspire it in others was indeed quite useful to the Chancellor's end goals, but Deechi had not been as reliable as Palpatine had hoped. Many were turned off by the Umbaran Senator's oily personality.

If one was to look up a dictionary definition of "sleazy politician" they would probably see a picture of Orn Free Ta. But beneath that picture they would likely see a picture of Senator Mee Deechi. It was an open secret that Deechi was a warmonger, hoping to use the war to line his pockets and make the Umbaran military-industrial complex rich beyond the wildest dreams of men. The war had been good to Umbara with Mee Deechi representing his people in the Senate. Palpatine had seen to that. Credits had flown into the pockets of the industrialists, and with the Republic on the war path unemployment on Umbara had fallen as the war industry boomed with a demand for weapons and ammunition.

The Chancellor was not a fool. He knew instantly the real reason why Umbara had seceded. After all, he was the one who had ensured that the Shadow World would defect in the first place. It was all part of a larger plan. He voiced his concerns to the room.

"I doubt that Deechi's assassination is the only reason behind this secession. Umbara held several highly lucrative contracts with the Republic for military equipment. Shortly after Deechi's death the Senate passed a series of legislative initiatives to curb back on "rampant military spending" as Senator Amidala put it. Umbaran weapons were becoming quite expensive, and so it was decided to cancel our contracts and forge new ones with cheaper weapons manufacturers. As a result of the Senate's decision unemployment on Umbara skyrocketed as weapons plants were closed down. Evidently the Umbaran President believes that by allying himself with Dooku he will manage to revitalize Umbara's war economy."

Admiral Tarkin nodded. "Your analysis of the situation seems accurate Chancellor given the limited information we have to go on. That being said, Umbara is strategically priceless on the trade routes, it's military-industrial complex not withstanding. The Separatists have already gained enough ground as is by seizing vital worlds alone the trade lanes. This cannot be allowed to stand. I highly recommend that a task force be sent to liberate Umbara immediately."

The Chancellor turned from Tarkin to his other military advisers. "What is you opinion of the situation gentlemen?" He asked.

Admiral Yularen gave the matter a moment of consideration. "Your Staff Aide informed us that the Separatists would not arrive until tomorrow. Is this intelligence reliable?" he asked.

Sly Moore nodded. "I still have friends in high places. The Umbaran Minister of Security informed me himself that he had been assured that the Separatist fleet would reach Umbara at around 1400 hours local time tomorrow. And then the transmission was cut at the source. It is clear that the President discovered that the Minister was in contact with the Republic, and so had him silenced."

"Then it would be prudent to send a task force to Umbara immediately." Yularen concluded. "We cannot allow the Separatists to become entrenched on the surface. Once the droids are dug in it would be incredibly difficult, if not impossible to uproot them. A lightning fast strike directly at the planet would be enough to shatter the Separatist fleet when it gets there. I doubt Dooku would expect us to react so quickly."

"That is all well enough." Palpatine said. "But the Separatists reinforcements on route to Umbara do not worry me as much as the local militia."

"How could one mere planetary security force stand against the concentrated might of the Grand Army of the Republic?" Pestage asked.

Sly Moore let out a mirthless bark of a laugh at that. Besides the Chancellor himself the Staff Aide knew the most about the fearsome nature of her homeworld's military.

"You fail to recognize the severity of the situation Sate." she whispered. "Umbara's army is not like the pitiful collection of police officers they call a security force that you are used to on Naboo. No offense Your Excellency." She nodded to Palpatine.

"None taken." Palpatine responded. He would have said more, for he agreed with Sly's opinion on Naboo's pathetic excuse for an army. But for now, in this situation it was necessary for the Chancellor to wait. He just had to be patient and allow the wheels of the meeting to turn. He would get what he wanted. He just had to let them come to their own conclusions.

"We have tanks." Sly continued. "Bombers, walkers, thermal detonators, blasters and fighters that are second to none. Our soldiers are battle hardened killers, having secured Umbara's interests on our colonies throughout the Ghost Nebula for centuries. They are well organized and they are highly efficient."

"Is there anything you know that could be used against them?" Director Isard inquired.

"The leadership never fully trusted the military." Sly answered. "The army has always been kept under tight control. The chain of command is rigidly structured and centralized at the top. If something were to happen to the leadership the militia would lose cohesion and collapse."

"So we would have to capture the leadership." Palpatine mused.

"Are there any secret bunkers that we should know of where this President of yours could be hiding?" Tarkin asked.

"If I may." Senator Organa interrupted. "I met the President once at a conference on Corulag several months ago. Based on my impressions of him I doubt that he would go into hiding should Umbara be invaded. He'd go down with the ship if he had to."

"I agree." Sly said. "He is motivated by pride and stubbornness. He would never leave the capital, even if his own life was threatened."

"The question is who should be assigned to lead the campaign?" Isard asked.

"General's Kenobi and Skywalker are in the area." Mas Amedda answered. "General Tiin has also just returned from a battle on Sulon."

"What about General Krell?"

The room was once again plunged into silence. Everyone turned to stare at the Chancellor who had proposed it. A few had mouths agape in shock, surprised that Palpatine would propose such a thing.

"Pong Krell? Are you sure that is wise Your Excellency?" Senator Organa asked.

"But of course." Palpatine responded. "General Krell by all accounts has an excellent reputation for achieving victory on the battlefield. He has won many an important triumph for the Republic."

"He also has a reputation for possessing the highest clone casualty rate of any general in the Republic's service, be it Jedi or not." Organa responded.

"I concur with Senator Organa's appraisal of Krell." Tarkin interrupted. "Our resources are stretched to the breaking point, and General Krell's strategies are oftentimes so costly that a victory at Krell's hands might as well be a defeat for the Republic. To put him in authority over such an important battle would cause severe damage to our material resources."

"I was actually thinking about the number of men who die in droves as a result of Krell's strategies. He's infamous for sacrificing entire battalions just to achieve an objective." Said Organa.

"As I said before _Senator_, material resources."

Sensing a row between the politician and the Admiral and not wanting to deal with another debate on the ethics of cloning the Chancellor stood up, attracting attention to himself and away from the two.

"My decision is final. Generals Kenobi, Skywalker, Tiin, and Krell shall set course for Umbara immediately, devise a strategy and liberate the Umbaran people before they can be enslaved by Count Dooku's war machine. I assure you Sly that we will not allow your homeworld to fall to the Separatists. Good day gentlemen."

And with that the Council of War was called to a close. One by one the advisers filed out, speaking in low voices with one another as they planned their little plots, leaving the Chancellor alone to his work. Scattered across his desk in haphazard piles were datapads and security briefings that needed attention. The Chancellor ignored these, turning his chair so that he could once again look over the city. It was night time now. Darkness had come to Galactic City, and while the artificial lights tried to hold the darkness at bay there was nothing that could be done. The Dark was there to stay no matter what the light tried to do.

Just as he liked it.

The Chancellor had known that cancelling the Republic's weapons contracts with Umbara would cause the planet to secede. The death of Mee Deechi was just icing on the proverbial cake. Umbara would serve as his insurance policy, correcting a growing mistake that could not be overlooked any longer.

For nearly two years now he had read after action reports of some of the greatest battles that this war had produced. First Geonosis, Muunilinst, Christophsis, Praesitlyn, Ryloth, Second Geonosis and dozens of others. The reports had concerned him deeply. The reports, written by clones, Jedi, and organic officers alike pointed to a growing problem that could severely harm the Sith Grand Plan.

The clones were forging an increasingly close bond with their Jedi Generals. This was unacceptable.

The clones were meant to be his ultimate weapon against the Jedi, a perfectly obedient army of completely unquestioning drones who would follow his every command. When the time would come the clones would execute the Jedi with ruthless efficiency. The Jedi would never see the betrayal coming. There would be no malice in the clones for the Jedi to sense.

They would just be following orders.

They were supposed to be genetically hardwired and conditioned into utter servitude to the Chancellor. It was becoming evident that this conditioning could be overcome though, and in a few circumstances it had already been overcome. Some clones had defected, others were proving just _to_ loyal to the wrong people.

Hence his insurance policy. The clones could not afford to become to attached to the Jedi they were meant to one day execute. And so Palpatine had put a small plan into action. To the Jedi the Force had become clouded and the ability to see into the future had become harder and harder to accomplish. This had been the work of the Sith. The Sith selected a Jedi who danced on the edge of the abyss, one Pong Krell, whose ruthlessness unnerved even his fellow Jedi. Once selected, Palpatine lifted the veil from the Besalisk Jedi's eyes and showed him the future. Palpatine remembered fondly the emotions he sensed from Krell when the Jedi had seen the future that the Darkside had promised to it's greatest practitioner.

The horror at the coming desolation was predictable, but with that horror came a silent fascination. Palpatine, without revealing himself, divulged to Krell the annihilation of the Jedi and the rise of a new Empire, an empire where the Darkside reigned absolute. For the first time in his life Krell had felt enlightened. He saw the writing on the wall. A new power was rising. He did not know what this new power precisely was or who truly wielded it, but he knew one thing; he wanted a piece of the action. On that night he silently forswore his allegiance to the Republic and renounced his oath of service to the Jedi. He continued to serve his new enemies, but something was different about him, something that none of his fellow Jedi could precisely point out. He was colder now, more ruthless and less caring about the lives of others. Palpatine had quietly ordered him from battlefield to battlefield. Everywhere he went Krell wrought devastation in his wake, killing enemy and ally alike with a kingly disregard. His genius for murder grew with each battle, finding ways to win while killing more of his own men. He reveled in the power he held over their lives. And every time he left for another campaign the clones left behind that had managed to survive his leadership would shake their heads, forever weary of the Jedi from that point on, never again willing to be so trusting of what their generals said and did.

Umbara would be Krell's crowning achievement in death, Palpatine could foresee it. The Battle of Umbara would go down in legend amongst the clones, and while the Jedi would denounce Krell as a monster who had forsaken the Jedi path the clones would still gather as they always had. They would gather together and confer with their brothers, and together they would whisper behind the backs of the Jedi, spreading by word of mouth that the Jedi did not truly care about them, and that for every Kenobi or Yoda there was another Krell waiting in the wings. There was no way to tell. If one Jedi could betray the Republic, than any Jedi could.

It was that type of thinking that the Supreme Chancellor counted on.

The Sith Grand Plan depended on it.


	50. Treason Doth Never Prosper

The flagship slices silently through the void of hyperspace, quickly approaching its final destination as the vessel reverts to realspace. I find with my advancing years that space travel agrees with me less and less. Travel in general has become a general nuisance, a wearisome experience that I have started to dread.

It was my desire to reign from the Palace and rarely travel after my ascent to the Throne, but Pestage insists that I must occasionally travel on these "good will tours" to reaffirm to the masses that as their ruler I actually care about the people I rule. And what better way to do that than by traveling the galaxy, shaking hands with the unwashed masses, touring cities, factories and farms all the while asking stupid questions and smiling for the camera droids, fooling these vermin into believing that, yes, the Emperor actually does care about your meaningless lives.

My time is incredibly valuable, and it is not to be frittered away chatting with nameless fools in the name of good publicity. However, my final destination on this journey will hopefully make this trip worth it. There will be no camera droids or HolonetNews reporters here. There won't be any "good will" here either. I am here on business, business that cannot be trusted to be conducted over the Holonet. My finest agents and technicians claim that my communications system is foolproof, incapable of being hacked or bugged. But as the years go on and the New Order gains strength I find myself less and less capable of trusting my underlings to accomplish the tasks I give them.

The commlink on the desk in my palatial suite chimes. "Your Majesty," the captain intones respectfully. "I wish to report that the flagship and the Honor Guard have dropped out of hyperspace into the Horuz system as you commanded."

"Very well," I responded. "Prepare my shuttle for departure, and inform Grand Moff Tarkin that I will be arriving shortly. And captain, have the Grand Moff forgo the full welcoming committee this time. I would like this meeting to be off the record." Over the last two weeks I have traveled to over two dozen worlds, and each planet insisted on having a welcoming committee, larger and more ostentatious than the last. Hundreds of fighters in tight formation flying overhead, thousands of troops standing at attention, flowers, confetti, the works. I appreciate the adoration in small bursts, but it grows repetitive after the 13th time.

"Very well My Lord." The captain answers.

The shuttle quickly departs from the main hangar. The ride is smooth and uneventful, just as I prefer it. As we make our final approach I find my way up to the cockpit, hovering behind and above the pilot silently like a shadow, observing the looming behemoth that hangs above the prison world of Despayre.

The Death Star.

From across the galaxy newly enslaved beings of all species have flooded the work yards here, in orbit of Despayre, toiling away to complete this, the greatest jewel in the Empire's proverbial crown.

It is a truly awe inspiring sight to behold. It will take at least another decade to complete, but when it is truly finished this grand device shall make every warship in the galaxy obsolete. This weapon that I am having built shall become an extension of my will, the personification of fear.

If of course everything goes according to plan. There are a thousand and one potential problems that might go wrong. For instance, due to my status as Emperor my fleet was allowed to drop out of hyperspace dangerously close to the superstructure of the Death Star. Normally any and all vessels entering into the Horuz system are required to reenter realspace at the very edge of the system. This is to prevent any potential rebel vessels from trying to fly into the Death Star and damaging it. Tarkin had to learn of this the hard way when a freighter slammed into the western hemisphere, undoing 8 months of work. Naturally my fleet is above suspicion and was thus allowed to bypass the quarantine zone around the construction yards.

Other attempts at sabotage are intermittent but they are nevertheless a growing concern. Perhaps I should send Lord Vader to properly motivate the slaves. We shall see.

The shuttle lands gracefully in the largest hangar on the station. Awaiting me on bended knee is Grand Moff Tarkin.

He is another potential problem.

Tarkin hungers for greater power. This has always been evident to me from the earliest days of our acquaintance. Men like him do not acquire their positions by not being power hungry after all. Tarkin believes that his thoughts are well guarded, and to those blind to the Force that may be true. His face is an immovable and unreadable structure etched in granite, betraying nothing. But to those blessed with the Force, Tarkin is an open book.

There are those mundanes who in the past had the capacity to shield their thoughts from Force Sensitives. Tarkin is an intelligent man, but he is not one of these beings. The Force does not factor into his world view. He is aware of it on an intellectual level, and he has seen it properly utilized on many occasions to know that it is fact and not mere theory. But he does not understand it, and in Tarkin's mind all that defies explanation and understanding is to be ignored.

But Tarkin covets greater power. He wants the throne. I do not hold this against him. I know for a fact that most of my advisers, from Lord Vader to the members of the Imperial Ruling Council desire the throne for themselves. It is only natural after all for men who have climbed life's ladder so high to not be satisfied with that which there stations have rewarded them. What matters to me as far as the highest echelons of the government and military are concerned is not the thought, but the deed.

Of course Tarkin entertains dreams of becoming Emperor. But he would never in his life actually _try_. And if he did I would quickly find out. As far as my Inner Circle is concerned thoughts do not matter. What matters is what they set out to _accomplish_. And even if he does get out of line I have many eventualities prepared to ensure that Tarkin's ambitions are kept in check. It is most beneficial to be prepared for any and all eventualities. Some might call that paranoid, but it is not paranoia if _they_ are really out to get you.

The thoughts and goals of those lower on life's hierarchy are a different matter, but more on that later I think. I mustn't keep the Governor waiting.

"Rise Grand Moff. Walk with me."

"I trust that your journey was pleasant Sire." Governor Tarkin said.

"Space travel agrees with me less and less as the years progress Grand Moff. A consequence of age."

"You have many years left Your Highness. With modern medicine you could live to be 130 easily. You look as energetic as ever." He continues.

It is a good level of flattery. Not overdone, yet not understated. The trip to Tarkin's residence passes in relative silence, allowing me to collect my thoughts for the coming meeting. We cannot meet in the Death Star's planned throne room as that sector of the station has not yet been constructed. It would not be prudent to conduct this meeting in Tarkin's office either. Protocol and the chain of command must be observed after all.

Upon further reflection I find that it is an unusual anomaly, protocol. We could not meet in the Grand Moff's office, as protocol dictates that the man who sits behind the desk is the superior and the one in front is the inferior. And I could not sit behind Tarkin's desk because it would be out of place, not to mention mildly awkward. And so, ruling out the office and the planned but as of yet non-existent throne room we elect to assemble in Tarkin's parlor, where the Governor no doubt entertains his few guests in his off hours.

This location is slightly improper as well, being so informal and whatnot, but necessity at times dictates that certain un-written rules be bent. The Governor pours for me a flute of wine from his native Eriadu. Evidently this is some of Tarkin's best. I expect nothing less. For a several minutes silence dominates the room. The Grand Moff observes me over the rim of his wine, his face as impassive as ever, analyzing. I can see his brain hard at work, attempting to divine the reason for my unannounced arrival.

But Tarkin is patient, and so the silence continues. Finally, after an acceptable amount of time has passed I speak.

"I am sure you have been wondering Grand Moff as to the reason behind my unexpected visit."

"The thought has crossed my mind Sire." Tarkin said.

"Then let us get to the crux of the issue. I am concerned with potential disloyalty."

"Your Majesty?" Tarkin asked, the smallest bit of concern slipping through his usually unemotional mask.

"You needn't worry about yourself Governor; I have nothing but the highest faith in your abilities. It is of others that I wish to speak of."

"I admit that I do not fully understand your reasoning Your Majesty. Have we not crushed the Separatists holdouts?"

"We have." I answered.

"And have we not purged the Imperial Military of the undesirable filth that made us weak?"

By undesirable filth Tarkin was of course referring to the aliens, females, and those others who had verbally made clear their distaste for the New Order that had been swept from the service.

"Naturally."

"Then I fail to see a problem Sire."

I shake my head. Tarkin has become obsessed with this station and its construction. As a result he fails to see the big picture that I myself see.

"The Empire is much like any garden Grand Moff. You must care for it constantly, or else the weeds will encroach upon the flowers of your success and strangle the life out of them. Even now those weeds that we had once thought ourselves rid of have taken root. We have enemies both without and within and we must purge. As the Empire grows stronger I find it increasingly necessary for there to be amongst the rank and file complete uniformity, not only of speech and action, but of thought as well."

I pause to take a sip of wine, savoring the taste as the liquid soothes my parched throat. Tarkin is observing me, trying to discover for himself where this line of thought will lead.

"Amongst the highest leadership of the Empire there is room for differences in opinion, but amongst those who serve us there can be no deviation. There must be complete, uncompromising orthodoxy of opinion and deed."

"If I may Your Highness why do you place such great emphasis on thought?"

"There is an old saying that I am rather fond of Governor Tarkin. "Watch your thoughts, for they become words. Watch your words for they become actions. Watch your actions for they become habits. Watch your habits for they become your character. And watch your character for it becomes your DESTINY. What we think, we become." Those who serve directly under me such as yourself or Lord Vader may allow themselves to think as they please, for these potentially subversive thoughts that they may think are counterbalanced by the knowledge of what I am capable of and the penalty of defiance. However those farther down the chain of command possess a less firm grasp of this reality. Make no mistake Grand Moff, there are those who wear the uniform of the Empire, but they are not Imperials.

They do not believe in the principles of the New Order, and they would gladly see harm done both to the Empire and to my person. This clique of dishonorable beings must be annihilated, but they are crafty, they would have to be to have survived the purges that swept the Navy clean at the end of the Clone Wars."

"If I may be so bold Your Majesty, who are these traitors?" Tarkin asked.

"I do not know. As I said before these beings are cunning. They know that to survive they must keep their true selves hidden. They may praise the Empire in public but when no one is looking they plot behind my back. I have no doubt that in time many of them shall cross over to the side of the growing rebellion."

"You are sure of this?" Tarkin asked.

"I have foreseen it." I answer confidently.

"You have foreseen it. I see." Tarkin responded, a hint of skepticism in his voice. Tarkin may have known that the Force existed, and he may have known of the physical powers that it granted a select few, but there were some things, such as visions and premonitions which were harder for him to believe in due to their unseen nature.

"I _have_ foreseen it." I repeat, a hint of anger coming into my voice. I tire of Tarkin's skepticism at times. Is it not enough for him merely to obey me?

"I meant no offense Sire, but wouldn't going on a proverbial witch hunt only cause damage to the Military? Would it not weaken us by depriving us of troops and resources best committed to more profitable enterprises?"

"Are you implying that I am wasting your time?" I ask coldly.

The temperature in the room drops by at least ten degrees. Tarkin sits ramrod straight as if struck by lightning.

"No Sire, of course not, what I meant to say…that is…what I am attempting to convey is that it would take a great deal of time and resources to root out these traitors. If they are indeed as cunning as you tell me then it would take years at the least to root them all out. I would not know where to even begin."

An acceptable (if not entirely graceful) way of extricating himself from a potentially life ending slip up. It seems that the nickname Slick Willy Tarkin was well earned.

"It would certainly be a difficult task." I say. "It would take Lord Vader years to root out the traitors, and it is highly likely that the Dark Lord would use this mission as a blank check to eliminate those he personally does not like. The Imperial Security Bureau is similarly unsuitable for the task, as most of their field operatives for the most part lack the finesse to root out those who are truly guilty. No, for this task something more subtle is required. Something more cloak and dagger in nature."

"What do you have in mind Your Majesty." Tarkin obediently asks.

"Perhaps a false flag operation. Yes, these traitors would be receptive to something like that."

"What would this operation entail Sire?"

"There are rumors about you Governor, not that I believe any of them." I say, interrupting Tarkin before he has the opportunity to profess the falseness of these rumors, whatever they might be.

"There are rumors that you yourself seek greater power within the Empire. Some even whisper that you covet the throne. We will capitalize on these rumors. You will enlist Imperial Intelligence to root out those most likely to harbor treasonous thoughts and have them rally to your "cause". You will then organize an armada composed of these traitors and unify them under your banner."

"Would it not be the height of folly to actually unify these traitors?" Tarkin asked.

"Allow me to finish Governor." I answer curtly. "This is what you must do. Once you have brought these traitors together you will claim that their purpose is to fight and die for you in order to protect the Death Star against anyone who would oppose you, even if that person was myself. You shall offer them power and potential glory in exchange for their service. You shall send them to your research base in the Maw Cluster, ostensibly so that they might hide themselves from the prying eyes of the Empire and prepare for the coming coup. But when they reach the Maw they shall find themselves in the middle of a trap. The traitors will find themselves in a practically unnavigable patch of space that they are unfamiliar with surrounded by Imperial loyalists that shall then destroy them. Millions of traitors will be expunged in one fell swoop."

"What of the families of these traitors? Surely they would notice if their loved ones in the armed services all suddenly perished under mysterious circumstances." Tarkin reasoned.

"In order to complete the illusion you will have to tell these traitors that this is a long term mission. They would have to spend years in the Maw without contact with the greater galaxy. Therefore you shall permit them to bring their families with them if they so desire it. That way many more traitors shall be brought into the snare."

"I beg your pardon Sire. The last thing I wish to do is offend you, but isn't this rather complicated plot…well…slightly paranoid."

"Is that what they call me out here in Oversector Outer Grand Moff? _Paranoid_."

"Would it not be easier to simply heighten our vigilance? We have no way of knowing for sure if each and every one of these suspects is a traitor. Would it not be a waste of time and energy to kill them all, even when it is likely that most would never risk opposing you openly?"

"How blessed am I to have a subordinate who sees fit to lecture me." I respond darkly.

"As I said before, I do not mean to offend, but surely there are easier alternatives."

"Perhaps there are, but the easy way is rarely the right way. You claim that this plan is complicated. That is true. It is complicated because those with lesser mental faculties will never be able to deduce the truth. I am attempting to strengthen the Empire Governor. My grip over the galaxy grows stronger with every passing day, but in places like the Outer Rim Territories my hold is still unacceptably infirm.

There are those who shake their heads in disbelief when I speak of the pathetic rebellion. It is true that there is no organized galaxy wide resistance like the Confederacy of Independent Systems. Not yet. But rebellion does exist. On the planetary level and on the sectorial level resistance to the Empire grows. If one needs proof of this one needs only look at the sabotage that has confounded you and this station since construction began nine years ago. All it takes is one spark to send the entire structure of society into chaos and I will not let that happen."

"Very well then. I shall put your proposed plan into effect immediately. For future reference Your Majesty, what should we call this project?"

I take a moment to consider this question. "Perhaps something theatrical." I answer. "If we are to pull off this false treason properly it must be something…self-glorifying."

I allow myself a smile that I know sends chills down Tarkin's back. I do enjoy watching them squirm under my gaze.

"Tell me Grand Moff, how does Tarkin's Fist sound to you?"

* * *

**This chapter is dedicated to Ashla Ti and to my favorite fanfiction series, the Tarkin's Fist Saga. This chapter could be interpreted as a missing scene that kicks the plot of that story into gear, but I think that this chapter could be read without knowing about that story. That being said, if you want to read a truly epic piece of fanfiction that is actually better than most published Star Wars books than Tarkin's Fist is for you. If you like my work at all then you will find that Ashla's writing is a thousand times better. As always reviews are welcome. **


	51. Master's Thoughts, Apprentice's Plots

**Before we begin I would like to apologize for my lack of updates in the last week or so. To make a long and rather boring story short I've recently gotten a second job (college bills don't pay themselves unfortunately) and as a result I have had less time or energy to write. The schedule should pick up again in September after I head back to school but until then updates will likely come at a much slower pace. Well, enough of my yammering, on with the show!**

* * *

"_And in the political world today the Galactic Senate was rocked by scandal as a clique of approximately 25 Senators was arrested on charges of conspiracy, obstruction of justice, and treason against the Republic due to their recently revealed connections to the infamous Weequay pirate gang led by Captain Hondo Ohnaka. This organization of brigands is infamous across the Outer Rim Territories for its leader's greed and ruthlessness. _

_While information on the arrest is scarce, credible sources in the Judicial Department have confirmed that the "Gang of 25" as they are now being called received multiple bribes from the pirates in exchange for using the diplomatic powers of their office to get the pirates out of altercations with Republic law enforcement. It is also believed that these Senators leaked to the pirates the locations of valuable cargo vessels and unguarded planets within their constituent sectors in exchange for a cut of the stolen treasures._

_Senator Palpatine, representing Naboo and the Chomell Sector had this to say at an emergency session of the Galactic Senate._

"_It is deeply disturbing to see this forum of the people descend to such a sorry state. There are those that say the glory days of the Republic are gone, and they would use this shocking turn of events as proof of the Republic's inexorable decline. I say that this cannot be so. We are a great Republic still, a force to be reckoned with. But I will not argue that the Republic is plagued with a terrible ailment, which with time and inaction, could result in the collapse of all that we hold dear._

_This is not rampant fear mongering my friends. This is the truth. We all know that the truth hurts, but now is not the time to assign blame or point fingers. Now is not the time to ask where the proper authorities were when this horrific crime was taking place. Now is the time for action. Now is the time for decisiveness. This revelation that so many of our colleagues were in league with vicious pirates should be a clarion call to every honorable Senator. Let us now repair the rift caused by these dishonorable men. Let us see that justice is done to the citizens of the Republic who were the victims of these pirates. Let us declare for the whole galaxy to see that on this day we move forward, ensuring that progressive change will lead to a better, more wholesome tomorrow."_

"_And again that was Senator Palpatine addressing the Galactic Senate, calling for political reform and justice for the victims of these treacherous attacks. The whereabouts of Captain Ohnaka and his pirate gang are at this moment unknown. Rumors indicate that Ohnaka's pirate fleet has fled to somewhere in the vicinity of the Sertar Sector, but we must stress that at this moment this rumor is unfounded. Ohnaka is considered armed and heavily dangerous and is not to be approached. In the aftermath of this scandal opinion polls have shown a massive drop in popularity for the Valorum Chancellorship, which critics argue was inattentive of perceived warning signs and ineffective in its campaign promise to stamp out corruption. While Coruscant insiders believe that Chancellor Valorum will manage to be elected to a second term in office, it will likely be with a significantly reduced majority in the Senate, severely weakening the Chancellor's hold on power. This is Rule Davenbay, reporting live from our HoloNet News studio on Coruscant. We'll be back right after these messages."_

The holographic screen deactivated as a figure in a dark room contemplated recent events. The figure had little desire to waste his time by watching corporate puppets peddle their wears to a gullible and greedy populace. They appealed to such worldly and trite needs, and such affairs were beneath him. A small spark of discontent fermented in the pit of his stomach. He tried to push it down and ignore it, but the words continued to buzz through his head.

Sidious was late in reporting in. He should have received this information directly from him, not from some anchor on the evening news. As if Sidious had sensed these thoughts from a great distance (which, the aging Muun thought was not unlikely) a beeping began to sound from his comlink. But instead of the hooded form of Sidious that the Muun had expected he instead received a text message on the holoscreen.

**Unable to speak in person, was ambushed by Chairman of the Commerce Committee relating to this incident on way to landing pad. Trust by now that you have seen the outcome for yourself. The plan went off without complication. Will be stuck in meetings for the rest of the night. Will meet at the aforementioned time and place. Apologies for not conveying this in person. Appearances must be kept.**

And that was that.

Darth Plagueis, Dark Lord of the Sith reread the message twice and let out a noise that was equal parts snarl and world weary sigh. His apprentice forgot his place. Not once in this abrupt message of his did Sidious refer to Plagueis as Master, as protocol dictated. Plagueis shook his head. Sidious had always been paranoid. Plagueis had been assured that his comlink was the most secure communications device in the galaxy, incapable of being sliced into. And yet Sidious insisted on never referring to his Master by his proper title unless he was absolutely sure that they were alone. Communicating over the HoloNet, no matter how secure the frequency was a constant source of anxiety for his apprentice.

Plagueis fixed himself a glass of whiskey and considered the situation. The message was just clear enough that the recipient would know what he was talking about, and was just vague enough that, should the message by some impossible manner fall into enemy hands it could not be deciphered by outside sources. It had been months since he had last seen Sidious in person. At times Plagueis wondered if Sidious had become too immersed in his guise as a politician. For hours on end during their increasingly fewer discussions the apprentice spoke less and less about the Sith and the Force and more about obscure rules, convoluted legislative plots and political machinations of such length and depth that Plagueis could barely comprehend them. Sidious however seemed convinced that these pedantic procedures could and did advance their cause and so Plagueis gave his blessings to proceed.

As the years had gone by and as Sidious found himself growing more accustomed to the rigors of Senatorial duty Plagueis realized that the execution of the final steps of the Sith Grand Plan had been for the most part carried out by Sidious, not Plagueis. Plagueis pondered this. It was the role of the Master to lead the Sith, but as he grew older Plagueis found the corporeal world to be less and less attractive. At times he wondered why the Sith would bother to try and master the physical world when they could become masters of the spiritual. Plagueis knew that he was close to that which he coveted above all, the secrets of life everlasting.

Immortality was his, hovering just out of reach. He just had to unlock one or two more doors that stood in his way and the final victory would be his. The great mysteries demanded his absolute devotion. He hadn't time for politics.

And yet a small nagging voice in the back of his mind continued to speak. "You are becoming irrelevant Plaguies. Without even knowing it you have handed Sidious the reins of power. For the last ten years it has been he, not you, who has ensured that the final phase of the Plan was put in place and executed properly. It is he who has been paving the path to our Order's final ascension. While you hide in your little hole playing mad scientist it is Sidious who makes the practical decisions. He governs the Sith while you experiment. Do you think he doesn't resent that? If so then you are a fool."

Plagueis tried to banish such thoughts from his mind. Sidious understood why Plagueis had taken this path. It was indeed true that in the past such actions that Plagueis had taken would be construed by the apprentice as an act of weakness, but Plagueis believed that he had instilled in Sidious a perfect loyalty. The days of the apprentice killing the Master were long since over. The rule of Darth Plagueis would institute a new regime. If the Sith were to finally triumph and endure there had to be harmony between Master and Apprentice. Bound together by the inexorable will of the Darkside of the Force Sidious and Plagueis would become two halves of one whole.

Sidious, the personification of the physical world, and Plagueis, the epitome of the mystical; together they would be invincible. It was not necessary then for Plagueis to fully understand the game that his apprentice played, so long as his apprentice delivered tangible results. Upon further reflection Plagueis realized that he wasn't entirely sure why Sidious had seen fit to remove those specific 25 senators from power. Sidious had merely claimed that their removal would aid the Sith cause, and that had been all that Plagueis had needed to sanction their downfall. He had been far too entranced with his research to give the matter further thought up until this moment.

Were they actually guilty of the crimes they had been arrested for? Had Sidious uncovered their culpability and leaked his information to the authorities? Had he framed them? Why exactly had he had them removed? Had they opposed his goals in the Senate Chamber? Had they been former allies who had betrayed him? A combination of all of this, or had he done it for none of these reasons?

Plagueis did not know, and a part of him did not care. The other part of him knew that he should have been more involved in his apprentice's affairs, but Plagueis could not argue with results.

Plagueis may not have been an expert in the finer subtleties of Republic politics, but he could grasp the end results of Sidious' machinations. A scandal of such immensity would severely damage Valorum's credibility, weakening his hold on power and paving the way to his ouster from office and Palpatine's rise to the Chancellorship, with Plagueis not far behind. The revelation that several Senators of the Republic had aided marauders in the Outer Rim would cause further damage to the relationship between the central government and the outlying regions, building up the growing discontent and anger with Republic incompetence that would spark the coming civil war.

Sidious had done well, and Plagueis allowed this victory to erode the anger that he had felt at Palpatine's inability to actually call and keep his Master properly updated. Sidious was a fine manipulator, and such a skill had made him invaluable to the cause of the Darkside. His manipulation was indeed his greatest asset. He was such a convincing politician.

Plagueis banished his few remaining doubts and roused himself to return to his experiments, having drank his whiskey. The Grand Plan was in safe hands. Sidious would be the key that Plagueis needed. In time Sidious would rise to the Chancellorship, and then he would appoint his Master Co-Chancellor, for he would then have the power to do so. And together they would rule the galaxy. Plagueis was assured that nothing could stop them. Sidious was ambitious, as any Sith should be, but Plagueis was convinced that this ambition had been tempered with loyalty and gratitude; loyalty to the one being who had made Sidious who he was, and gratitude for the power that Plagueis had and would in the future grant to him.

For Darth Plagueis the Wise things were looking bright indeed.

* * *

"And that is why I would like to propose to this Committee the following amendment, which, in light of this recent scandal I believe shall restore the trust that the Outer Rim once held in the Republic..."

It has been a fruitful day. Several of my political opponents have been permanently dealt with, and with them out of the way I am now one step closer to the position which is rightfully mine. The Chairman of the Committee continues to chatter inanely. He doesn't realize that the damage caused by this scandal is permanent, and that the people's faith in their elected leaders has only been further eroded. In time it shall shatter completely, and the people shall beg for one strong man to lead them. I shall happily answer that call.

However as I sit here at the conference table pretending to pay attention to this proposed amendment to the new trade agreement I find myself considering, not my success, but rather an unwanted burden that hangs upon my neck like a heavy chain.

My "Master".

I can sense him even from such a great distance away. He is a doddering fool who has the unmitigated audacity to believe that he controls me. No one controls me. He is upset that I have not contacted him yet to report upon our most recent plan. Or rather, my plan. He always refers to these plans as "our plans" even though it is I who not only conceives of the plan but ensures that it is carried out to completion.

I do resent our working relationship. He has spent years locked away in that lab of his. That which he searches for, the secret of eternal life is indeed a goal worth looking for, but his obsession with immortality has come at a cost to the Grand Plan. The success of the Sith relies more upon our triumph over the physical than it does the spiritual. We have more immediate priorities. Once the Jedi are dead and the Republic has been torn down we may then pursue the great secrets. But Plagueis wastes his time and mine, allowing valuable opportunities to fall by the wayside. Plagueis has allowed his contacts with the influential and the powerful to languish, contacts which could have made my job easier, but Force forbid that my job be easier.

I have done more than my fair share. He orders me about as though I were still that petulant teenager on Naboo that he had discovered all those years ago. But I have grown beyond that. I have grown beyond him. Who is he to order me about? Have I not proven myself the superior Sith? Have I not proven myself to be more clever, more resourceful, more productive? What has he to show for his years locked away with nothing but his experiments for company? Nothing!

In the time he has wasted courting the Darkside I have become a Senator, systematically ensured that corruption spread rampantly across the galaxy, weakened the Valorum administration, and created the groundwork for the greatest war that the galaxy has ever seen, a war that will catapult the Sith straight to the top of the pyramid as the undisputed leaders of the galaxy. I have done all of this and much more, and Plagueis has the gall to call himself Master. He would coast through life, not lifting a finger to aid me as I built up the Sith Order. He would ride my coattails to the top, and he would have me appoint him as Co-Chancellor. Co-Chancellor! I've never heard a more ludicrous thing. The Senate and the people would never hear of it. Supreme Chancellors have always been elected by the Senate and are always members of the Senate when they are elected (the times when Jedi were elected Chancellor were extraordinary cases and do not count). That is how a parliamentary system of government works. They would never stand for an outsider to be made their leader, especially an executive of a vast holding company. Public opinion is firmly against the megacorporations, and to see the Magister of one of the largest corporations appointed as Chancellor would be absolute political suicide.

But Plagueis does not and cannot understand this. He thinks that just because we are Sith we can do anything we please. There are some things that even the Sith cannot accomplish. We are limited by the realities of the real world. But he refuses to see reason. How I loath him.

And yet, I know that I need him. He must be close to uncovering the greatest secret of all. I still need his wealth, his expertise. Without it I cannot yet attain the Chancellorship for myself. It will happen soon. I will be the one to succeed Valorum, and when I am firmly enthroned in the trappings of that office which is my birthright I shall rid myself of the burden that is Plagueis. The old fool thinks that I am his willing servant. A part of him thinks of me as his son.

Such heresy is revolting. No Sith can care for another. He had hoped that he had curbed my ambition and instilled in me a loyalty to him.

He was wrong. It is as my Father once said. I am an animal, I cannot be domesticated. Not even a Sith can tame me. I know from instinct not to bite the hand that feeds me, but the time is fast approaching when Darth Plagueis will become completely redundant.

I recall that Plagueis once said that the art of manipulation was one of my greatest assets. It truly is. I have fooled many into believing that I am harmless. I have fooled my colleagues in the Senate. I have fooled the press. I have fooled the Jedi. I have even fooled Plagueis himself. He thinks me loyal. He thinks me his servant. The ungrateful scum. My ambition has never been tamed, it has merely been hidden beneath layers of calculated deceit. He is secure in his position of power, believing himself to be invincible.

I look forward to that day when I prove him wrong. That day is not today however. I may be vindictive and cruel, but I am patient as well, and that patience holds my less desirable attributes in check. And so I wait, knowing that I shall soon have the power and the Mastery that I covet.

For me, things are looking bright indeed.


	52. All In The Family

**Before we begin I would like to preface this chapter with a warning. There may be a few scenes of physical violence and strong language that may be disagreeable with some of you. Therefore viewer discretion is advised. Please Leave a Review!**

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I have a Mother and a Father, as most children my age do. I call them just that, Mother and Father. My teachers have always been rather off put by this insistent terminology. My classmates have moms and dads, mamas and papas, mommy's and daddies. But I have Mother and Father. There is a reason for this.

"You're a curse boy! You are an absolute, unending source of shame for this family!" Father yelled.

I don't see why he is so mad. What happened is in the past. We can't fix it now. Besides, I would think that he would have been proud of me, taking back what was mine. After all, he has always told me to stand up for myself. And that is what I did.

"Cosinga please," Mother timidly implored, "He is only nine years old. He had no idea what he was doing."

"The hell he didn't." Father hissed. He walked over to his "special cabinet" as Mother called it and took out a bottle of whiskey (he had already consumed a half bottle of wine by this point.) If Mother had looked alarmed before at my Father's ravings she now looked terrified. She knew what was coming. We all did. The entire family was sitting around the table, having finished dinner, except for me of course. Father thought that he could frighten me with loud words and the threat of no supper. After nine years I am mildly surprised how little he understands me. And so I was forced to sit at the table, watching the rest of the family have their dinner while I sat in my usual spot with nothing but an empty bowl and my Father's angry voice in front of me.

"Dear, you promised me you had gotten rid of that." Mother said, pointing a trembling finger at the now open bottle of whiskey. Father sneered in response, and began to drink. After five minutes of drinking he looked up at Mother, and then he glared at me. Then he turned back to her. His face was now a bright red.

"I wouldn't drink woman if it weren't for that boy." He snarled, pointing in my direction. "How else am I to cope with his disgrace?"

"I-it isn't that bad dear." Mother whispered. By now Father had drained the bottle completely (while it had been a small bottle I was sure that he had drained it in record time).

"ISN'T THAT BAD?" Father repeated his voice a mixture of rage and surprise at my Mother's naivety. With a speed that belied his intoxication he hurled the empty bottle at Mother's face. I did not know why she got hit. Maybe she had poor reflexes. Maybe her loyalty to Father was so great that she thought it her duty to withstand his abuse. Either way she took the bottle straight to the face.

The force of the impact caused the glass to shatter and sent Mother out of her chair. She landed in a heap on the floor by her chair, her face etched with scratches and cuts from the glass. Trickles of blood and tears came tumbling down her cheeks as she whimpered and cried. My siblings recoiled in horror. But I was as still as a statue. I was always proud of myself because of this. There were things that scared other people, even things that scared adults that did not scare me. This was one of those things. I always felt proud of this. It made me feel grown up. It made me feel better.

"Fifteen thousand credits you stupid woman." Father roared, turning his back on his agonized wife as he returned to the cabinet, this time pulling out a much larger bottle. Father was normally a dignified sort of man, or at least he liked to think of himself as dignified, and drinking straight from the bottle was many things, dignified could not be counted as one of them. At the moment he looked as uncouth and ungentlemanly like as any member of the working class that Father quietly detested. His hair was unkempt and wild looking, his robes covered with stains from spilt alcohol, and he had that wild look in his eyes that he got whenever he had started to drink.

Not for the first time I wished that I had a happier drunk for a Father. One of my associates at school had a father who drank even more than mine, but he did not yell or throw things at his wife. He would just sit there in the corner, laughing to himself at some unknown joke, occasionally giving his children some money for sweets so they wouldn't see him like this, not hurting a fly until he finally drank himself into a deep sleep. I knew this because I had been over to his house once on a visit.

I wished this because Father's bad tempers got stale rather fast as the entertainment value of his apoplectic rage diminished. I wasn't afraid of him like the others. Indeed, the angrier he got the more pathetic and contemptible he became as far as I was concerned. But listening to him yell for long periods of time and listening to my so called family scream in fear became rather grating after the first half hour.

"FIFTEEN THOUSAND KRIFFING CREDITS YOU STUPID BITCH! That is how much he has cost me today." He took another swig from the bottle, spilling some of the contents upon his chest. He didn't seem to care.

"Two thousand to silence his teacher. Three thousand to the kriffing principal to keep it off of his permanent record, and ten thousand to the damned kid's parents to keep them quiet." He turned his ire back to me. I'm sure he hoped the manic gleam in his eyes would frighten me.

It still did not.

"What do you have to say for yourself boy, huh?"

"He cut in front of me at the lunch line and got the last of the blue milk." I said calmly. "I should have gotten it, not him."

"You stole the milk from him and threw him out a window on the fourth floor." My seven year old sister whispered, horrified by my callous description of what happened. I turned to her and shrugged.

"He got what was coming to him." I said.

"Do you have any idea what you have done boy?" Father spat, his face now turning from red to purple. "The doctors say he broke two thirds of the bones in his body and ruptured half of his organs. He was lucky to survive. He'll be even luckier if he is able to walk again."

"Why is this a big deal?" I ask. "This isn't some primitive stone age society. The doctors should be able to fix the damage, and if he can't walk again they can give him one of those fancy exoskeletons that he can wear underneath his clothes that will allow him to walk." I paused, surveying Father's rage contorted face. I do enjoy getting under his skin. He deserves it. "I don't see why you are so mad at me Father. He took what was mine, I retaliated and taught him not to meddle with me. Isn't that what you do with your enemies?"

The comparison I made between him and I only made him angrier.

"We are nothing alike boy!" He hollered, his voice cracking as more whiskey spilled out of the bottle, sloshing onto the once pristine carpet. "I wouldn't try to murder someone. Don't you understand? He nearly DIED!"

"Of course I understand. I just don't care." I responded. That set him off. He threw the bottle at me. I of course am not my Mother, and so I dodged it with ease. However, while I ducked Father ran around the table, stumbling as he went and grabbed me by the collar. He pulled me up close so that we were face to face. My once impassive face now changed expression, but instead of the fear that Father had hoped to instill he instead saw a look of pure loathing. That just made him angrier, and perhaps a little desperate.

In the back of his mind, the unbridled contempt etched in his son's face unnerved the aging noble. It was his right after all as patriarch and head of the family to have the absolute support and obedience of his family. And yet his son had the nerve and the mental strength to so openly defy him. What followed next was in his mind justifiable. The unspoken chain of command that was a noble house had been defied. Order had to be reestablished.

Pain was the method by which order would be restored.

*SMACK!*

"You don't care? How about now?"

*SMACK!*

"How about now, huh?"

*SMACK!*

"What about now?"

*SMACK!*

"NOW!?"

_*SMACK!*_

"This will teach you to respect your elders."

***SMACK!***

"And this will show you to obey the rules."

My face stung, my eyes watered in pain, but I blinked back the forming tears. I didn't know why, but deep down I knew not to give in, not to show that I was hurting.

I knew not to show weakness.

All of my life I had hated Father. My earliest memory was staring at him, hating him. I don't know why I hate him. There has always been something about him, some aura of false superiority and stupidity that made me yearn to claw out those conceited eyes and tear apart arrogant skin. Every single faculty now screamed to fight back, to slash, bite and rip. But I knew something that few people my age could understand. I knew that physical pain was temporary. Bodily wounds would heal with time. This was a game of thought. He was trying to scar my mind and bend me to his will. He was trying to use fear and anger to subdue me.

This had worked well on my Mother, and the mental scars inflicted upon my siblings by Father's violent mood swings had been enough to keep them in line. They were all so contemptible. I hated their weakness. I also feared it. I saw them for what they were, terrified animals following a vicious, yet stupid, Master like Nerf to the slaughter. And so a part of me screamed to resist, to remain defiant, or else I would end up just like them. And so I tried to ride the pain out, to block out the blows and imagine myself somewhere else.

I never cried once.

He eventually stopped. I tried to control my breathing, which came in ragged and hoarse bouts. My face hurt. Nothing was broken. Father may have been drunk but he was sensible enough not to break anything (it would be difficult to explain such injuries away to a doctor).

He had thrown me back into my chair. I looked around. My siblings were staring at me, awestruck that I had endured such a vicious assault without uttering a single yelp. They all would have started shrieking after the second strike. They were all weak. Mother had her eyes covered. She was crying. Not once had she tried to stand between me and Father. She was as incapable of revolting against him as rocks were incapable of flying.

I stood up from my chair. My legs shook like jelly and threatened to give out. I placed my hands upon the table to steady myself. I would not look weak in front of this fool. He would not break me. I looked up at him, and I supposed that the ferocity of my glare must have shaken him, for he stumbled back in shock and, was that fear? Yes, yes it was fear! How positively delightful. To see that fear written in the lines of his face almost made the pain worth it. It is strange. It must have been a trick of the light, or perhaps it was the blood rushing to my head distorting my vision, but for the lifetime of a blink I could have sworn that, when I saw my reflection in Father's eyes that my eyes, those sky blue orbs of piercing ice, had suddenly flashed yellow.

I gave the matter little thought.

Without a word being spoken I turned and limped into the kitchen that stood adjacent to the dining room. I returned a moment later with tonight's dinner, a pot of soup, and a ladle. I set the pot down, took off the lid, and spooned out a large helping of soup. My brothers and sisters stared at me, practically murdering me with their eyes. Father had tried to punish me by giving me nothing to eat and forcing me to watch the rest of the family eat. And yet, here I was defying him in the most overt manner possible. I was doing the one thing they had longed to do all their lives, the thing they had dreaded to do. I thumbed my nose at the creature they feared most, and in the back of their minds they knew that I would get away with it. Mother burst into a fresh round of tears, as she often did. I was only making the situation worse for her and she knew it.

Tough luck on her part.

I set the ladle down, took up a spoon, and without taking my eyes off of Father I began to eat. The tension was thick and hung about the room as oppressively as the humidity on a hot summer's day. The silence must have been horrific for them to endure. I no longer cared. Our eyes, Father's and mine were locked onto one another, his were of helpless fury, mine a cold, mocking triumph.

I finished the first helping, had a second, and then a third. When I was full I stood up. I had never broken eye contact with Father. And then I spoke.

"Why should I obey the rules? You are always going to bail me out. You need me Father. You can't disown me or hurt me too badly. What would your opponents think of you if they found out? What would your allies think? It would be the end of your career and you know it. You are stuck with me whether you like it or not Father."

I turned to Mother, who was shaking, her eyes as wide as saucers as she stared at me. "The soup was adequate, but if I was you I would spend more time trying to make it taste better."

With that I turned and left. But instead of going up to my room or going out to meet up with my "friends" I waited on the staircase in the main hall. I heard Father speak again.

"The boy is a demon." He said softly. I heard him take another loud slurp from the bottle. "Where did he get it from? Certainly not from me. This is your fault!"

I could hear Mother's inarticulate spluttering, but Father's voice picked up steam once more as he found a new target to vent upon. If I could not be successfully bullied tonight, then she was a moderately acceptable substitute.

"Something happened during the pregnancy!" He yelled. "I always knew that your family was strange in the head, but my father insisted that I marry you. Think of the social standings son, he would say. Think of the money. Think of the money indeed. That boy is a drain upon my account and a constant headache. He'll be the death of me."

"Please don't say that dear, it, it isn't my fault." Mother responded. I could hear her crying louder now as she tried to defend me in her own weak way.

"Oh so it's my fault then?" He asked darkly.

Mother tried to protest that it wasn't his fault either, but I knew what was about to go down. I peeked through the door frame. Father was advancing on Mother, my siblings still frozen in their chairs. Mother was trying to protest that it was the fault of neither of them. Father would hear none of it. Her protests and cries for clemency became shrieks and cries for mercy. He slapped her this way and that. My sisters were sobbing. My brothers were white as ghosts.

I smiled. It was nice to have dinner and a show.

I have a Mother and a Father, as most children my age do. I call them just that, Mother and Father. My teachers have always been rather off put by this insistent terminology. My classmates have moms and dads, mamas and papas, mommy's and daddies. But I have Mother and Father. There is a reason for this.

The aforementioned titles have a sense of closeness and affection. Mother and Father are formal titles that imply a distance and an officialness. That can sum up or relationship easily. We are estranged from one another, family in name only. We are together not because we want to, but because fate has brought us together and circumstances demand that we remain under the same roof. It is an arrangement that none of us enjoys. And yet we tolerate each other as best as we can. Maybe that is what family is all about, learning to tolerate one another without resorting to murder.

On that last note I don't know how long I can hold out. If there was one thing that I learned from Father today it was not to respect my elders or to obey the rules as he had intended. Instead, without knowing it, his actions proved to me that violence and fear in tandem with one another play a very effective role in getting people what they want.

Perhaps going out racing with some of the people from school will salvage this evening for me. I may only be nine years old, but that has never stopped me from breaking the rules before. As I walk out the door I can hear the faintest echoes of Mother's cries and Father's yelling.

Another night at the Palpatine Household.


	53. Maul and Ruin

Maul was a practical creature concerned only with that which would immediately benefit him. Lightsaber training, combat practice, lessons in manipulation and assassination. These were things that interested him. He was very much a being grounded in the here and now. If any object or subject could not or did not immediately aid him in his quest for greater power then it was not worth his time.

This is one of Maul's chief flaws. In retrospect I find that perhaps I have been lax in my duties as Master. It is necessary for a Lord of the Sith to be well versed in a wide and diverse array of areas. Maul's training thus far had been focused on combat and deceit. He had little experience in the fields that I found to be as equally important as lightsaber training; Sith alchemy, literature, and history.

It was history above all that Maul detested the most. He would never complain to me openly on the topic, as his fear and loyalty towards me was enough to stay his tongue, but I could easily peer into his mind and decipher the truth. Maul failed to understand the value of history to the Sith. Research was in his mind boring and cumbersome, a waste of energy where the net gain of research was outweighed by the loss of time.

The history of the Sith is rich and glorious, filled with past triumphs and lessons that I have taken to heart. I have learned from the mistakes of every Sith Lord who came before me, and it is I who has expanded the influence of the Sith, using their successes as a guide and their failures as a warning.

Maul is impatient. A decade into the past and a decade into the future are as far back or forward that he is capable of thinking. In his mind the actions of men who lived centuries and millennia ago are irrelevant. Their triumphs and their defeats are equally irrelevant in his mind. He believes himself, like so many before him to be cut from a different cloth. He believes that the rules of life do not apply to men like him, and that he can avoid whatever difficulties arise in the future.

"Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it." That is a phrase that has haunted me from my earliest recollection to the present. Centuries from now I wonder how I shall be remembered. Shall I be remembered as a great Sith Lord whose brilliance finally led to our ultimate triumph? Or shall I be remembered as a failure? Will I even be remembered at all?

That is a question that looms over me. It would be better to die and be remembered in infamy than to live as a miserable little nobody. That is why I value history's lessons so deeply. Those who understand the lessons of the past could become invincible, possessing all of the strengths of time's greatest men while possessing none of their weaknesses.

Maul does not understand this. I can sense his frustration from the other room as he works his way through stacks of Sith lore.

Frustration morphs into confusion. Confusion initiates introspection. Introspection creates curiosity. He is pondering something. I can almost see his crimson and black face screwed into deep concentration, as if he was trying to understand the secret meaning of life, the universe and everything. He doesn't understand something, something he thinks is important. He sees something that flies in the face of what he believes and this angers him.

He enters into the small abandoned office that is my unofficial headquarters here in the abandoned factory district in The Works of Coruscant. I allow Maul to kneel before my desk for a few moments as I go over the Chancellor's latest spending bill. It is always an enjoyable experience, causing others to wait for you, their need to speak with you festering within them, their frustration bubbling to the surface. But I digress.

"What is it Lord Maul?" I ask.

"I have been studying the historical texts you have given me Master, and there is a subject that…" his voice drifts into silence. He grimaces despite himself. He hates to admit that there is something in this universe that he does not understand.

"Yes?" I ask.

"…I do not understand." Maul mutters.

"I see. And this is?"

"I was reading the treatise on the New Sith Wars of nearly a millennium or two ago, and there was little mentioned of the Dark Lord who had begun this war, Darth Ruin. What little I read of him was dismissive at best of his accomplishments. My other readings exposited more on other, and in my mind, lesser Sith. Darth Revan for example is practically deified. Darth Bane is exulted, the Sith Emperor is exulted and yet Ruin is glossed over."

"What is there that you do not understand my apprentice?" I ask.

"From what I have seen Ruin was one of the most successful of the Old Sith." Maul said, trying to justify his position. "Of all the incarnations of the Sith that came before the rise of Bane, Ruin's Sith came the closest to achieving the long desired dream of the Darkside, the complete destruction of the Jedi and the downfall of the Republic. His Empire was the largest and most successful of all the Old Sith Empires. One would think that those that came after him would hold him in higher regard. And yet he is rarely spoken of. Why?"

I fix Maul with a pointed stare. For a moment he seems uneasy, and for the life span of a heartbeat he regrets asking this question."

"A valid question my apprentice." I finally answer. I sit back in my chair, interlacing my fingers as I observe Maul.

"Tell me Maul, do you know what the Creed of Ruin is?"

"I confess that I do not Master." Maul replied.

I recite the Creed from memory.

_"There is no passion…there is solely obsession._

_There is no knowledge. There is solely conviction._

_There is no purpose. There is solely will._

_There is nothing…_

_Only me."_

I look into Maul's eyes. His mind wraps around these words, processing and trying to understand them. The ideas are similar to that of the Sith Code, but there are important differences that clash with his preconceived notions of the Sith.

"History tells us that Lord Ruin was, by his nature, arrogant and narcissistic. He believed that not only was he and he alone destined to recreate the Sith after the Order's destruction at the end of the Second Great Galactic War, but that the teachings of the Darkside's champions could be improved upon if the Order was centered around him. Do you know what solipsism is Maul?"

"I confess Master that I do not." Maul answered.

I nod. "Solipsism my apprentice is a philosophical point of view which holds that all reality outside of an individual's mind is unsure. Believers in the theory of solipsism hold that the self is all that can be known to exist. For instance, if I was a believer in solipsism I would believe for sure that I exist, but the rest of creation and all who inhabit it would be considered only to be hallucinations."

"How can one believe such a thing?" Maul questions.

"The senses can be fooled Maul." I respond. "Solipsists therefore insist that what sensory input we derive, be it sound or sight, is a lie created by the subconscious. If external senses can be fooled then it is impossible in their minds to determine what is and what is not real with any general certainty. Solipsism is the ultimate form of selfishness my apprentice. Solipsists value themselves so highly that, in their minds nothing else exists. Other beings are so beneath them that they are literally nothing to them. In this assumption there lies a great danger."

Maul leans forward, hanging on my words. He is beginning to connect the dots. I continue. "Beings carried away by solipsist thoughts oftentimes believe themselves to be above and beyond the ineffable rules that govern this life, as they believe it to be mere fantasy. There were certain Sith who lived after Darth Ruin who took his solipsist teachings to their natural conclusion. They became sociopaths and went mad. Some even believed themselves to be gods. In the end they were easily dispatched by their rivals."

Maul nods, and he looks as if he were about to speak, but I interrupt him before he can start. "Selfishness has its place. Do not mistake my line of thought to be dismissive of the selfish. Greed is inherently beneficial to the Sith. Greed fuels ambition, and ambition leads to action and creates strength. Concern for the self preserves and enhances the Order and its members. But with all lines of thought comes the need for moderation. To be selfish is to be natural and is not to be denied.

Ruin's chief fault was that he had no restraint. He was vicious and cruel to a fault. His self-centered nature only hastened his own demise. Darth Ruin saw himself as Dark Lord of the Sith. Any Dark Lord must inspire his underlings to serve him, whether it be through fear, lust for greater power or simple loyalty. Ruin did none of this. His psychotic nature only caused his despotic rule to spiral out of control. The followers that he had managed to attract quickly tired of his uninhibited dementia, and some years thereafter they had him killed."

Maul considers this. He is not fully satisfied. "I mean no disrespect Master. I understand why Bane is held in such high regard by our Order, as well as most other Sith Lords. But there is one issue that confuses me. Darth Revan is regarded by both Sith and Jedi as a legend worthy of awe, so much so that even Bane respected his prowess. And yet, from what I have seen, Revan was Ruin's inferior. Revan was returned to the Lightside after he became a Sith. His accomplishments, while formidable, seem in my mind to pale in comparison to those of Ruin and his successors. Why then is Revan revered and Ruin lambasted?"

"Revan's accomplishments were indeed great Lord Maul. I believe you underestimate the full strength of Revan and the legacy that he carries. Revan was one of the few living creatures able to withstand and resist the corrupting nature of the Sith Emperor. Revan lived for centuries, a champion of both the Light and the Dark who foiled the plans of the greatest Jedi and Sith of his era. His tactics were strokes of brilliance, his physical skills unmatched. But what truly set Revan apart from the Sith before and after him was his insatiable pursuit of knowledge.

This was a concept that Ruin considered irrelevant, for in his own words there is no knowledge. There is solely conviction. With the knowledge Revan uncovered in his travels came a revelation, the need for personal balance. I do not mean balance in the Jedi sense, but the idea that certain passions, while powerful and necessary, must not be allowed to consume the spirit whole. Revan was a charismatic creature. Centuries after his disappearance at the end of the Jedi Civil War beings still spoke of him in reverent tones. Indeed, to my knowledge a cult was actually founded that followed his teachings. This charisma my apprentice came with an innate understanding of people and their thoughts.

To quote Darth Rivan, who came after both Revan and Ruin, "Darkness allows us to understand others, to see what they value when they believe no one else is looking. It allows us to be honest with ourselves, to express those values that we would disavow in the light."

Ruin possessed none of this. His erratic personality cost him support, as did his lack of charm."

I pause, allowing Maul the opportunity to process the information. He seems almost overwhelmed. He had never considered the full importance of such concepts. After a few moments pass in silence I continue.

"The greatest sin of Darth Ruin though was that, while one could argue that his incarnation of the Sith was the most successful, it was also the least successful."

"I do not understand this line of thought Master." Maul said.

I nod in understanding. Of course he wouldn't understand. "While the New Sith Empire that Ruin founded was indeed highly successful at first, the euphoria of conquest and expansion quickly wore thin. Ruin's over emphasis on the self led to even more infighting amongst the Sith then there had existed in any previous incarnation of our Order. The Sith have always schemed against one another. This is necessary, as it promotes growth and evolution of power. However, treachery and deceit have their place. The Sith were poised to finish off the Jedi once and for all, and on the eve of absolute victory the Sith imploded into infighting of a ruthless kind that had not been seen before or since.

The Creed of Ruin poisoned the Sith and weakened our Order. Ruin's actions and teachings were less a new interpretation of the Sith and more a way of thumbing his nose at the philosophies of both Jedi and Sith. Ruin's Creed proclaims that there is no passion and that there is solely obsession. Passion is what drives the Sith and what gives us strength. Therefore Ruin abandoned one of the sacred tenets of the Sith. Conversely, Ruin's Creed proclaims that there is no knowledge, which is an affront to the teachings of the Jedi, which holds knowledge to be sacred.

This is why he is held in scorn by both Sith and Jedi. Ruin's teachings were indeed of the Darkside. But they were not of the Sith. A Sith must Master all emotions and harness their full potential, whether they be your emotions or the emotions of those you wish to control. Ruin was a reckless animal, consumed with love for himself and contempt for the rest of the universe. This hindered his efforts to carve out his own niche in history and resulted in a weaker Order of Sith, an Order more prone to incompetence and infighting, infighting which our Jedi enemies readily took advantage of. It was Lord Bane who corrected the flaws that Ruin had exacerbated, inspired as he was by Revan's actions. Ruin repeated the mistakes of his predecessors with an almost gleeful zeal. Bane learned from history, and as a result set the Sith upon the path that both you and I now tread" Comprehension finally fills Maul's eyes as I complete the lesson.

"Do you now understand Maul?"

"I do. Thank you for making this truth clear to me. You are most wise my Master." Maul turns to return to his studies, but stops, hoping to ask another question.

"Master, which Dark Lord do you hold in the highest regard?"

I look up at him, and my eyes flash yellow.

"Why, the one who shall lead the Sith to their greatest triumph of course."

Maul understands.

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**I was looking through Wookieepedia recently when I came upon the article on Darth Ruin. He seems like he would be a very important character from a historical point of view, and yet his bio was rather sparse when compared to other Sith Lords on the site, hence the inspiration for this chapter. Please leave a Review! **


	54. Sithisis

**This chapter was inspired by the short, no dialogue comic Sithisis. I highly advise that, while you are reading this chapter that you find the full comic (it can be found online on Facebook) and look at the artwork while reading. The artwork is very well done. Please Leave a Review!**

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The gale gathers strength. The fog grows thicker, making that which was once clear impossible to see. The sea of the Force rages unchecked as all is sent into flux. The waves of the Darkside crash upon the metaphorical beach that symbolizes the Light, washing away that which was in the riptide. There is no levee, no barricade, no defense from the rising waters.

A flood is fast approaching.

When it arrives all that is dear to the Light shall be drowned. All that is necessary now is a catalyst, a single force that shall cause the defenses of the Light to be breached and for the Darkside to rise.

I am that catalyst.

Two eyes open. Piercing yellow orbs glare at what is soon to be. A calculating intelligence exists behind those eyes. My eyes. My intelligence. I see that which I will do to aid in the Darkside's ascent.

It is time for the puppet master to once again pull the strings.

Rising from the throne-like cathedra where I reposed in meditation I levitate towards the artifacts that are my tools and the keys to my Grand Plan.

The ritual begins.

Before me diamond like structures hang to my left and to my right, flanking a single, large crystal that hangs from the ceiling above. I approach one of the diamond shaped receptacles, observing the intricate latticework and Sith runes carved into the sides. I have my hand towards the chest and that which it carries.

It does not move.

Such is the nature of the Darkside. The Darkside does not dole its power out willingly. It must be made to, frightened to. I try again, pouring into the Force my life's rages. This time the vessel responds, and a tiny opening at the very tip appears.

Nothing emerges.

This does not surprise me. The Force is an entity of give and take. The Sith vent their passions into the Force and the Force grants us power in return. For that which lies within to emerge I must first give it that which it desires.

I know what it desires.

A gnarled left hand rises over my head towards the cavernous ceiling above. I take a moment to observe it, this wizened limb. As white as the new fallen snow, with sharp nails that would have looked more in place upon the hand of a witch from a children's story, I realize that this hand appears much as the rest of my body does. Sharp, pale, and sagging under the great power that holds it, my body has become a sanctuary to the ravaging powers of the Darkside of the Force. As a result I have become deformed.

With this thought in my mind I raise my right hand, and with the palm of my left hovering over the opening of the artifact, I slice into my left hand with the nail of my right index finger.

A single drop falls.

A leech springs forth from the diamond structure that was its home. It smells blood. Mandibles spread wide as azure eyes take in the burning scarlet droplet. The droplet falls into its mouth just in time for me to reach out and grab the wriggling leech.

This is my test. This ravenous beast thirsts for blood and hungers for flesh. Some say that these creatures could devour an entire Rancor in one day if given the chance. To allow one to get even a single whiff of your blood is akin to signing your own death certificate.

Without hesitation I lift it up and drop it into my mouth, biting off its tale as it travels down the esophagus.

The pain is overwhelming as the worm tries to burrow its way into my organs. Arching my head backwards a yell rips from my lips. So intense is the pain that for a moment I cannot even register that the scream is my own. I collapse to the ground, clutching my stomach as the blackness dances at the edge of my vision. But I am stronger than that. The Darkside is my willing servant, and it will obey me. Calling on the Force, the decaying power of the darkness overwhelms the creature, causing it to break apart and dissolve into my bloodstream. I am spared.

The crystal hangs before me, glowing brighter than it had before. It finds me worthy. There is little time to lose.

Pain forgotten, I rise back to my feet as I reach out and touch the glowing crystal. It is smooth to the touch. The room hums with untapped power. I can almost see those who had used such crystals in the past. The shadows of Dark Lords long since dead, mere echoes reverberating in the Force appear before me to observe this, the most sacred ritual of the Sith.

Tendrils of lightning alight from my fingers and flicker across the surface of the crystal. Crystals such as these are rare, though for my purposes easily replaced. Few know of such miracles of the Force. Not even the Jedi are aware of the significance that this crystal and its brethren hold.

This crystal is a conduit that radiates and focuses the powers of the Darkside. It is a fractal through which the Darkside flows freely. I am able to tap into the crystal's power, and through this crystal I am given unparalleled control over the Force of the galaxy itself.

For the briefest moment I attain godhood.

I see the entirety of the galaxy. I see every possible future, every secret, every person, every battle, everything. Nothing is hidden from me in that brief span of time.

I become the Darkside.

I urge the darkness to expand outwards. Fueled with contempt I spread my message across the cosmos. Everywhere I touch is saturated with the rising power of the void. Hatreds build to their breaking point. Battles in space and upon the ground intensify as blood lust for the enemy grows stronger. The tendrils of the Darkside reach out to the worlds of the galaxy, binding them together with fear and loathing. The minds of my allies and underlings are dominated and subjugated to my will as world after world is thrown into despair.

It is a self-fulfilling cycle. The Darkside spreads fear and hate across the galaxy and grows stronger from the fear and hate that it creates.

The inferno builds.

The chorus of the dead watches, muttering inarticulate words that I cannot comprehend. It is the language of the dead. Perhaps they are pleased that my ritual will add more to their ranks, as the growing might of the Darkside ensures that the latest cycle of death and destruction shall be the greatest and most devastating yet. At the moment it matters not.

The symphony of terror begins.

We start off with the screams of children, always such a soothing way to start. These children, Jedi children to be precise, find themselves suddenly subjected to the full maelstrom of the Force. Their training is not advanced enough to block out a full concentrated attack. Their minds are assaulted with horrific images of indescribable terror. Falling to their knees they weep, they shriek and gnash their teeth as they beg for the monsters to leave them alone. A woman, so instrumental to my plans watches these children, dumbstruck with fear as they are overwhelmed by their trepidation. There is something different about the woman. What is it? I concentrate upon her with the full power of the Darkside at my beck and call. She falls to her knees clutching her stomach as nausea and muscle spasms threaten to overwhelm her.

She is with child.

Good. Everything is proceeding according to plan with her it seems.

As enjoyable as frightening women and children is this ritual is not meant solely to vex them.

On a distant battlefield my chief opponent, the herald of the Light leads his men into battle. But even from the distant Outer Rim he can sense the encroaching darkness. He can feel the Light wane and recede, withering against the Darkside's inevitable advance. For but the briefest of moments he is distracted by this vicious assault upon the Light that has been his beacon and source of refuge.

A second is all it takes for the enemy to counterattack. An explosion knocks the old troll into the air. He will survive with nothing more than a few scratches, of that there is no doubt, but for the briefest of moments he felt fear at the growing strength of the coming night. That by its lonesome is a devastating wound for a Jedi to endure.

My energy is redirected again. My focus centers upon the shatterpoint that is the crux of my plan. Skywalker fights on a distant world, slashing and hacking his way through the enemy. His frustration and his anger grows stronger. I edge him forward ever so slightly, implanting in his subconscious a growing rage that causes him to lose control and give in to his hate in that place where he is sure no one will see him.

I see all of my enemies writhing in shock and discomfort. They wilt and whimper before the growing storm. They see the black clouds upon the horizon, the lightning flashing and the thunder roaring that threatens to hit.

They worry about the oncoming storm, for they know (though they do not admit it) that the shelter of Light which they built was constructed upon a foundation of sand, a foundation which will be washed away in the coming hurricane and spread to the four corners of the universe, forever devastated. And yet they pray that they will manage to weather the storm regardless of its ferocity. Jedi fools. There will be no end to this storm.

I should know, for I am the eye and the nexus of the storm.

The ritual takes place for only a brief period of time. For those few minutes I become the physical manifestation of the Darkside of the Force. I possess absolute control and comprehend all that there is to know. As if it were an extension of my own body I will the Darkside onwards, urging it to flex its strengthening muscles as it expands and grows, feeding upon the despair that I sow across the universe.

But the Force does not like to be controlled. It is affronted that a Sith should have the impudence to alter destiny in his favor.

And so the Force fights back. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. I have controlled and used the Force, and now the Force shall try to fight me back for the violation I have committed. The Force has one last test to see if I am truly worthy of my Mastery.

The crystal cracks as the animal within emerges. For the crystal is no mere crystal. It is no mere conduit either. It is a cocoon. It is all of these things.

The crystal shatters into a million glittering shards. And from the center emerges a leech like the one I devoured before. But this one, this one is truly massive, easily the size of an airspeeder. Mandibles spread wide as it howls at me. I do not try and fight it. Instead I pull back my hood, revealing to the creature my true face, almost skull-like from the ritual, drained of all color and vitality by the coursing power of the Darkside. My arms rise up to the heavens as if to embrace the creature as it devours me whole. As I had eaten its cousin so too has this creature tried to eat me.

It will find that I do not make a good meal.

Calling upon my inner hatred the power of the Darkside within me expands. Every cell and molecule of the creature is inundated with the power I exert from the Darkside. The creature writhes as cells break down and its life's energies drain from it's body.

For you see, this creature is itself not merely a creature. It is a chrysalis. Upon draining the creature of its life force the energy is drawn into my body, restoring my physical appearance and undoing the damage that the corrupting nature of the Darkside has inflicted.

The creature dissolves into nothing in a flash of blinding azure light. And from the epicenter I emerge. Gone is the chalk white complexion. Gone is the sagging skin and deformed tissue. The face of Sidious is hidden once more from the sight of others. The mask of Palpatine is once more firmly in place.

The ritual is complete.


	55. Ambitions Thwarted

**Chapter 55: Ambitions Thwarted, or In which Sidious proves that he's the boss by yanking the Count's chain and Dooku gets mad because he can't have nice things. Certain ideas that make their way into this chapter are inspired by the review of the Nightsister's trilogy that was done by the online critic Sf-Debris. Please leave a Review!**

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It can be vexing at times, being the leader of a vast galaxy wide Confederacy bent upon the overthrow of a calcified and decadent regime. The hours are long and the work is quite trying. There are logistics to handle, enemies to terminate, speeches to be made, and worst of all public appearances that need to be attended to. Such matters would be taxing even for a young man, but the aging Count of Serenno felt weighed down by the burden that destiny had placed upon his shoulders. In the end the role of villain was beneath him, as was the role of the charismatic revolutionary. Deep within his bones he felt each and every second of his eighty two years dragging him down.

He found himself staring out of the green tinted window of his palace, surveying the landscape before him. The Count had always enjoyed his privacy, and so his retreat was located on a steep hill overlooking one of Serenno's many cities. Dooku grimaced to himself as he folded his hands behind his back. He had just returned from a war rally in which he had successfully galvanized the populace's resolve to fight the Republic to the bitter end. Giving speeches was all fine and good, but Lord Sidious had insisted the Dooku mingle with the people. That he shake their hands, listen to their inane chatter and perhaps kiss a few babies for good measure. It made him sick just thinking about it.

"We must all play our parts Lord Tyranus." Sidious had advised him shortly before the outbreak of the war. "The parts that we play in this grand opera may sometimes be distasteful to us, but what we do is necessary in the pursuit of greater power."

And so it was that Count Dooku, aristocrat, gentleman, and leader of the forces that made the galaxy tremble found himself in the undignified position of having to appeal to and spend time with the unwashed and undignified masses.

Even as a Jedi Dooku had been chided by his comrades as being far to aristocratic in his attitudes. The Jedi had never mixed well with the concept of aristocracy. Wealth was a foreign concept to the Jedi, as were the ideas of privilege and family ties serving as the means of advancement. The Jedi were dismally egalitarian, the Count mused. They would accept literally anyone into their ranks if they possessed even a spark of sensitivity to the Force. From the children of royalty to the sons and daughters of the most coarse commoners, all were accepted into the embrace of the Jedi. It turned his stomach.

Sidious knew this, and frankly he did not care. It was necessary to Lord Sidious's plan that Tyranus become the one entity that he despised the most. It was necessary that the Count should become, not merely a politician, but a man of the common people.

Naturally it all made perfect sense. Dooku was meant to be the beacon that would attract those disenchanted with the Republic to his side. In order to do this he had to be different things to different people. To the industrialists who backed and financed the Separatist Alliance Dooku was a supporter of profits, big business and free trade. But to the individual people on the planets that had seceded from the Republic Dooku was an entirely different entity. He was, to them, a champion of the unrepresented and downtrodden men and women who had been quietly ignored by the Senate on distant Coruscant. Here was a man they thought who understood their pain. They believed that Dooku would forge a new government that would be responsive, not to corporate interests, not to the needs of petty politicians, but to the needs of the people who made up the population of the Confederacy of Independent Systems.

The very concept was revolting.

As far as the Count was concerned the Republic's descent into petty kleptocracy could be traced back to one undeniable truth; universal suffrage and the role that the people played in the government.

By giving every law abiding citizen of the Republic the right to vote for their Senator the Republic sealed it's own fate. The masses were too uneducated, to shortsighted, too easily fooled to make such important decisions as to who would play a role in the decision making process of governance. As a result of their bumbling ineptitude the wrong people got into power. Even the limited franchise of his own Serenno (wherein only the members of the wealthiest families could vote and play a role in the planetary government) was distasteful to Dooku. So much time and energy was wasted in attempting to create consensus. To argue and debate was pointless to the Count. In his mind he was right and he did not need to stoop so low as to try and defend his position or garner the support of those who were his inferiors.

But soon he wouldn't have to waste his time with such petty trivialities. The time would come when the common people would be removed from the process of government all together. There would be no more coalition building, no more debates, no accommodation for opposition or differing points of view. There would only be power and the free, unrestrained exercise of that power by the one truly deserving of it.

Him.

Beneath the expressionless mask that was his face Lord Tyranus fumed at the indignities he suffered. He was descended from some of the finest stock in the galaxy. He was destined for greatness, and yet here he was following the orders of that cowled buffoon. The Count knew who the man was beneath the cowl of course. Why he insisted on wearing that hood during every conversation of theirs completely eluded him. Something about the risk of the signal being intercepted, it didn't matter. Lord Sidious himself was the heir of a noble house, just as Dooku was, but the Count had done his research. The House of Palpatine was a lesser house, far beneath the grandeur of House Dooku both in terms of wealth and in status within society. By the unspoken rules of aristocracy Dooku should have been senior in their partnership.

And yet Dooku could not deny that there was a brilliance to Sidious which, coupled with his grasp over the Darkside made him nigh invincible. At least, that was how the Confederacy's leadership saw it. Those on the Separatist Council aware of the existence of Sidious were naturally terrified of him and thus loyal out of terror of the consequences that open defiance would bring. To them he was omniscient and omnipotent. Grievous considered the Sith to be charlatan's and liars, mystics and cowards who hid in the shadows and depended on others to do their dirty work rather than fight as warriors would. The only reason he continued to support the Sith was due to a healthy fear that, loath though he would be to admit it, was the one thing he held in common with the Separatist Council.

And Ventress? Sidious to her was brilliant, but lazy. She had no inkling as to his true identity, and so she felt that Sidious accumulated all of the power while she and Dooku did the heavy lifting. Where was Sidious, she surely wondered. She did not know of his dual role as the Chancellor, and so thought that he was nothing more than a dead weight around the neck of the Separatist movement.

More than once she had entertained ideas of uniting with the Count to overthrow the Dark Lord. Dooku had recognized this from the beginning. Asajj was a gifted assassin, but when it came to her ambition for greater power she was not as subtle as she could be. The idea was not without merit to Dooku. Ventress had grown in strength and skill. Her powers had become stronger with each passing day.

She would make a suitable apprentice. She had been kept from the deeper mysteries of the Force that an apprentice would be given access to, but this could be easily remedied in secret. Yes, they _could_ overthrow Sidious, and then Dooku, Count of Serenno and Lord of the Sith would attain that which he rightfully deserved. All he had to do is keep his cards close to his chest and all would be his for the winning.

_*beep* *beep* *beep*_

The holotransmitter on the Count's desk began flashing. Dooku turned from the window and walked over to his desk. He didn't need to check the transponder frequency to know who was calling.

Activating the projector, the aging Count knelt before the flickering, ghostly form of Darth Sidious.

"Lord Tyranus." the Dark Lord said, his voice raspy and cold.

"My Master." Dooku responded.

"There is a disturbance in the Force." Sidious intoned.

Yes, yes a disturbance, Dooku thought bitterly. There was always a disturbance. Every time Sidious called there was always a disturbance that needed to be dealt with. Couldn't he just cut to the point rather than indulge in the mystical nonsense that he seemed so enamored with. The Count was rather busy after all leading a galactic rebellion _against Sidious himself_, so the Dark Lord knew that he was busy and had little time to waste on idle chit chat.

"Your assassin," Sidious continued. "She has become very powerful."

"Yes my Lord." the Count responded, raising his head to look at Sidious directly. "She is quite important to me."

Ventress was indeed very powerful. Dooku had after all invested a tremendous amount of his time and energy into her training. He had worked night and day turning her into an agent of destruction in the name of the Sith. A small part of Tyranus was partially glad that Sidious had recognized the amount of effort that the Count had put into Ventress. It was gratifying for Dooku to see an investment like Ventress, which Sidious had initially been weary of, pay off so spectacularly.

"Too important." Sidious growled, observing the Count with disdain from beneath the rim of his hood.

In the span of half a second Dooku panicked. He realized the error in admitting Ventress's importance to his goals. It was as Sidious had once said early on in Dooku's apprenticeship, "_tell me what you cherish most, so I will know what to take from you."  
_

Sidious had seen through the Force the Count's growing lust for power and his disenchantment with the role he now held.

"Master..." The Count exclaimed, trying to defuse the situation and undo the horrific blunder he had placed himself in.

"Silence!" Sidious bellowed. "I can sense her powers growing stronger. I would hate to think that you were training your own Sith apprentice to destroy me." The Dark Lord's tone of voice was biting and sarcastic. He knew. Sidious always knew. There was no defense, the Count realized bitterly, against Sidious and his power to peer into the souls of others. Dooku watched as his prospects fell apart. There was only one route that he could take.

"Never! My allegiance is to you and you alone." The Count responded, desperately trying to extricate himself from a bad situation.

"Then you must prove it. _Eliminate her_."

This was it. All of his hopes, his hours of hard work and months of meticulous planning had become undone in less than a minute. How could Sidious know? How could he hold such knowledge? There had to be some way to salvage the situation. Perhaps Sidious could be persuaded.

"She's my most trusted..."

"I SAID ELIMINATE HER!" Sidious barked, his fury evident in his face (at least, that which could be seen beneath the cowl.)

And that was that. Ventress had to die. There was no way around it.

For a split second the Count allowed himself to glare at the flickering image of the man he was forced to call Master. And then he knelt his head in subservience, like a common servant. In his mind he cursed Sidious and the Force for leaving him, a Count for the galaxy's sake, in such a degrading position. To take such demeaning orders and to have his plans blocked at every turn was the epitome of humiliation. But what could he do? There were no alternatives.

"As you wish my Lord." The Count muttered. The hologram promptly deactivated, leaving the Count alone with his thoughts.

Sidious did these things on purpose. He allowed his underlings to build up hope, he allowed them to believe that they could achieve ultimate power, only to step in when they became a little to high minded and cut them down to size. He enjoyed watching his little puppets dance. That was all that he was, Dooku realized with a growing contempt. He was a puppet being played with by an angry, petulant specter. In that moment what strength the Count had possessed was sapped away, and the weight of his duty and his age fell upon him like a crashing Star Destroyer.

He knew what had to be done.

Ventress was leading the fleet in the Sullust system. Before he could contact the droid commander and order him to destroy her Ventress herself appeared on the projector. It was evident that her fighter had sustained heavy damage.

"Master," Ventress spoke. "I need your help quickly. I'm surrounded."

She was in over her head. Again.

"You've already lost the battle child. I've ordered your reinforcements to return."

"NO!" She answered. "I will destroy the Jedi. I'll show you." She is desperate to make up for her latest failure. She has no idea what is about to happen next.

It pains the Count to say what comes next. Years of effort are about to go up in smoke, and all that had been accomplished shall amount to nothing. He saw himself reflected in her eyes, and in that moment Dooku recognized the depth of his failure. It is the nature of the Sith to scheme against one another. If the apprentice fails to overthrow the Master then he will in turn be doomed to either further subjugation as the apprentice or death. This is not the end. But this is a critical blow to the Count, not only to his own machinations, but to his aristocratic ego. He has been outmaneuvered by a man who, in any other setting should have been his inferior.

"You have failed me for the last time. You are no longer my apprentice. And now, you will die." He informed her. And with that the transmission was cut.

The order was quickly given to the droid commander to destroy the command ship upon which Ventress had crashed. It was soon over.

The rest of the day passed slowly. A dreadful shroud of defeatism hung over the palace that usually accompanies the death of one of the most competent people on their side. Dooku raged quietly in his office. At times it felt like the universe was out to oppose him. Sidious enjoyed watching him squirm. There was no end to the indignities that Sidious forced him to endure for his own quiet amusement. But what else was there for him to do? Sidious could destroy him with ease. The Count needed an ally strong in the Force. Only then could he hope to stand a chance against the Sith Master.

Though he was in no mood to speak to the Dark Lord Dooku knew that it was necessary to report back on his assignment.

Tapping a few keys on the desk the projector flickered to life, revealing once more the ghostly form of Sidious.

"Master." Dooku said by way of greetings.

"What is it Lord Tyranus?" Sidious responded, sounding mildly annoyed, as if he had been interrupted from a very important task. So now he wanted to skip out on the pleasantries, the Count mused angrily. Dooku apparently wasn't worth Sidious's time, but if it pleased him the Dark Lord could drone on and on when he was on Dooku's time.

Getting out of his chair the Count knelt (with a mild twinge of pain flaring into his legs and lower back; a consequence of increasing age regrettably) and answered. "I have done as you've asked. Asajj Ventress is dead."

A small, nearly unheard chuckle could just barely be heard emanating from Sidious's throat. It amused him to watch the Count fail so completely. His humiliation would ensure his continued loyalty. For now.

"Once again you have proven your loyalty to me." Sidious said. And with that the transmission was cut off, leaving an exhausted and frustrated Count alone with nothing but his wounded pride.

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In a dark room a dark man stands alone with nothing but dark thoughts to keep him company. This is as he prefers it. A smile tugs at the edge of his lips as he considers the situation. Tyranus has grown far to arrogant. Perhaps he has begun to believe his own propaganda, believing himself to be a leader of the forces that make the galaxy tremble.

He is nothing, merely a tool, an executor of the will of someone far greater.

Arrogant, greedy, and prideful to a fault, the increasingly feeble Count has begun to entertain delusions of grandeur. Does he know nothing? There is nothing that he can hide, for the Master knows all and sees all. Sidious is always ten steps ahead. Every eventuality has been considered and planned for. The mechanisms are in place to ensure that no one can challenge the leader of the Sith. Tyranus lives under the illusion that he has a great future ahead of himself. He is nothing more than a scapegoat and a servant.

He fails to see that which is truly important. Wealth and familial connections can only get one so far, as Sidious knew well enough. There were much more important things in this universe. Pure power for instance.

Dooku is an able servant, but the Sith Lord on distant Coruscant can see, even from a distance, that Dooku is not what he once was.

No one is irreplaceable my good Count, the Dark Lord thought. Treachery is the way of the Sith, and so Sidious did not hold this transgression against him. Let the old man twist in the wind. Let him try to swim against the current of history. And let him believe himself to be superior to all others, vested in the trappings of meaningless privilege. It is all an endeavour in futility.

Even when there are only two the two shall still conspire against one another. Either the apprentice shall replace the master or the master shall replace the apprentice.

Darth Sidious pulls back his hood and took off his Sith cloak, and all the while his harsh blue eyes stared at the projector where the form of Dooku once appeared. Palpatine sneered.

"I have no intention of being replaced anytime soon Lord Tyranus."


End file.
